


The Pirate's Mistress

by kittykatknits



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Jon Is Not Related, Jon is a pirate, Pirate AU, Pirate porn, Robb is a pirate too, Smut, mild violence, romance novel tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2018-12-21 05:50:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11937654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykatknits/pseuds/kittykatknits
Summary: Based upon the following prompt on Tumbr: Jon Snow/Targ &Robb Stark are pirate captain of 2 different ships. They’re friendly rivals/frenemies but have common enemy in the Lannisters. Shenanigans ensue,Sansa lands on Jon’s ship/Jon meets and falls in love w/ Sansa. I just really want a Pirate!Jon and fluffy or smuty JonSa.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RayofHouseProcrastination](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayofHouseProcrastination/gifts).



> This will be a short multi chapter fic, I can't imagine it lasting longer than 9 or 10 chapters.
> 
> If you're looking for fluff, smut, sword fights, a ship battle, and eventual bromance, well then, pull up a chair.

Stark was late, he should have expected it. Jon waited in the most reputable inn to be found on Winterfell Island. It was a place mostly populated by pirates, thieves, brigands, and the worst sort of miscreants, which meant it would have blended into Flea Bottom quite well. The food was decent enough, better than the bowls of brown he’d dined on in its pot shops, he’d give it that. **  
**

Jon signaled the innkeep to refill his cup with ale before tearing a chunk of pork off his plate. He glowered at the damned singer who, for some horrid reason, deemed it fit to start on _The Dornishman’s Wife_ for the third time since he walked through the doors of the White Knife Inn.

He waited until the song finished before calling the singer over to his table. “Here’s a dragon for your entertainment,” he said, tossing a coin to the man. “And here’s another to cease your yammering.” He slammed another dragon on his table, forcing the singer come closer.

He approached, noting Jon’s clothing and the scar on his face. His eyes grew big in recognition. “As you please, my lord,” he said, nodding meekly.

Jon winced. “Not a lord, you best remember that.” He didn’t press further, letting the singer go on his way. He’d probably given the man more than he’d make in a sennight with that wretched voice.

A figure appeared in the doorway, blocking the sunlight.

“Good of you to show.”

Robb Stark glanced at the few men in the sparsely populated room before sitting across from him. “I had an unexpected delay getting here.” He grabbed Jon’s cup of ale and smirked before emptying it.

Jon’s face twisted. “Did you get lost?”

“No,” he said flatly. “There was a small problem with my sister.”

Jon heard stories of Robb Stark’s little sister but he’d yet to meet her. If rumors were true, she was quite the beauty. Sansa Stark was also said to be the perfect image of a lady, sweet, innocent, dutiful, and spoiled. “You brought your sister here? To Winterfell? I never thought you to be particularly bright Stark, but that makes you a thrice-damned fool.”

“Piss off, Snow.” He took a long swallow from his newly delivered cup. “She’s hidden away on my ship, I’ve got Rodrik watching over her. Sansa will not be stepping a single foot on this damned island.”

Jon knew Rodrik, he was a good man, considering his choice of profession. Even so, Jon could not imagine keeping a proper lady like Sansa Stark on his ship. She’d be worse than useless. “Are you going to tell me why I’m here?” He shoved his empty plate of food away before leaning back against the inn’s stone wall.

“I need a favor.”

Jon snorted. “Please tell me you didn’t lose your ship again.”

Stark snarled. “That was one time.” He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth and chin several times. “I need you to keep my sister safe for me.”

He let out a sharp laugh. “Seven fucking hells, no. Why would I want to do that?” Jon would be leaving port in a day’s time, he had no great desire to be stuck on Winterfell watching over some girl. Too long ashore and he’d start losing men.

“It’s the Lannisters.” Jon’s ears perked up at that name. “They’ve got a ship laden down with gold dragons and silver stags, jewelry, silks, weaponry.”

The Lannisters were the richest family in the kingdom, taking their ship would yield quite the bounty. “Who’s captaining?”

“Joffrey, that little shit. And it’s the _Red Lion_.” Robb’s eyes lit with a feral gleam at that announcement.

Jon looked about the room, no one sat nearby. He leaned in, speaking quietly. “The Lannister fool on their flag ship.”

“And I know where it is.”

“You want me to play nursemaid while you go off on a raid?” The tone of his question told Robb Stark just what he thought of that particular idea.

“I didn’t plan for this,” he said apologetically, as if that were enough of an explanation. “I was taking my sister to visit our aunt but that will have to wait for now. Sansa deserves a good life, not a brother tied to piracy and smuggling. If there is enough, I intend to give her a dowry so she can marry well.”

Jon pretended to consider helping. “You could tell me where the _Red Lion_ is and I could go. That way, you’d keep your little sister home, nice and safe with you.”

“I don’t trust you that much, Snow. You forget, we’ve worked together before. The Black Bastard would take it all and I wouldn’t see you again for quite some time.”

He had no answer to that, it’s exactly what Jon intended to do. “Sorry, can’t help you then. Best of luck with your sister.” He put a stag on the table and began to guzzle down the rest of his ale before making a pretense of standing up to leave.

“Buggering hell, sit back down. You haven’t heard my offer yet,” hissed Stark.

He started at the man, debating. “Talk fast.” Jon rested back on the wood bench.

“Five days, that’s all I need. Take care of my sister and you’ll get a quarter of the haul. It doesn’t get any easier.”

He’d pay up too, Stark would want his sister back. “Tempting offer. I leave tomorrow night for a short cargo run. It’s lawful.” It was not. “The lord of Oldcastle has a large shipment of furs and is expecting me.” Another lie.

Stark’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Starting a new life, are you Snow?”

He snorted. “No. An honest job every so often, helps keep up appearances.” Third lie. Jon was certain he could keep pretty Sansa Stark safe. It was a tempting offer, a quarter from a Lannister ship would go far. His men would consider it a fine reward for little work.

“Are you accepting then?”

He gave a curt nod. “I’ll do it. Bring your sister to the _White Wolf_ in the morning. Five days, Stark.” Plenty of time to play nursemaid. He’d need to appoint guards to keep watch over her. Jon hoped he would not come to regret it.

“Tomorrow morning then. I’m in your debt.”

Jon smiled to himself upon hearing that.

Robb rose from the table and walked towards the singer before pointing in his direction. “That one there. His favorite song is _The Dornishman’s Wife_.” He gave the man a pair of gold dragons. “Sing it to him for me, will you?” Stark stood over him until the poor sod rose and began to belt out that absurd song in his flat, off-key voice.

Jon growled.

The next morning found him standing on the upper deck of his ship, gazing up into a cloudless blue sky. The weather felt warmer than he would have expected, stifling. The crew worked all around him, cleaning the decks and inspecting the rigging and sails. He looked over the railing, eyeing the small row boat making its way toward him. There were four figures, one of them bedecked in a blue dress. Jon had lain awake half the night wondering if his decision to accept Starks’ offer was ill advised. He still wondered.

A short time later, Sansa Stark stood on his deck, looking about curiously. Jon knew instantly, his decision was easily one of the worst of his life.

“You can stop that now, Snow. You agreed to keep her safe, not ogle her.”

He drew his gaze away to focus on Robb. “She’ll be safe, I gave you my word. You’ll get her back just as you left her.” Jon would need to appoint guards to watch over her along with another set to watch over them.

The rumors Jon heard did Sansa Stark no justice. She was beautiful, with bright auburn locks that made him think of oak leaves in the fall. Her eyes were a bright, innocent blue. Her dress was a shade or two darker with a chest line that gave him a tempting glimpse of what he suspected would be a most delicious set of teats. He glanced at his men, they reminded him of a bunch of love struck puppies panting after a bitch in heat. Jon would need to appoint a third set of guards.

“Welcome to the White Wolf, Lady Sansa.” Jon gave a chaste kiss to her offered hand, feeling satisfied. He could play the part of a gentleman well enough when the need arose.

Sansa smiled demurely. “I think you for your offer of hospitality. My brother tells me the two of you are dear friends.” Jon frowned at Stark past her shoulder. The man did a stellar job of appearing innocent. “I hope we will be friends as well, Ser Jon.”

“Just Jon.”

“Forgive me, Ser Justjon.”

“No, it’s-” He took notice of her tilted brow and half smile, realizing he was being teased “I hope for the same.” Quite the gentleman, indeed. He grinned back at her.

“Where shall I put my trunks? Can I assume I will taking over your sleeping quarters?” She indicated a set of oaken chests by their feet.

Jon had failed to notice their appearance. “Four of them? What in the seven heavens are you going to do with four trunks?” He asked, exasperated.

“They contain my morning and evening gowns, two formal gowns in case the need should arise. I also have a full set of night rails and robes, I prefer my colors to match, you see. Plus, slippers and boots, dyed to several different shades. Many other items of a more personal nature, course.” She softly patted his arm as if explaining the obvious to a simpleton.

His skin burned where she touched him. “Of course.” Jon wouldn’t know, he only wore the one color. Quickly, he arranged for her trunks to be taken to his rooms. His quarters were the most luxurious on board, he thought them suitable enough for a lady.

“I’ll also need to meet with your cook.”

“My cook?”

“Of course. I have my own mint tea that I prefer to have served for breakfast and in the afternoons. You have a lady on board, Ser. Can I ask where I will be taking my meals?”

He’d not considered. Jon glanced at Robb Stark, that gave him an answer. “In my quarters, with me.”

Jon stepped back, allowing the Stark siblings a moment alone to say good bye. He noted Robb’s affectionate kiss on her cheek, realizing just how much the man loved his little sister.

“Keep her safe for me, Snow. She’s all I have in the world,” Robb said. There was a level of sincerity in his voice Jon rarely heard.

“I promise.” He meant it, too.

Sansa did not notice him, her attention caught by what he assumed to be the sails of his ship. “This is different than my brother’s.”

He realized the source of her confusion. “This is a schooner, your brother’s is a brigantine. Two sails, each of them.”

She smiled at him, a gentle and intimate one. Jon felt as if it cast a spell on him, he felt thankful for the beard that hid the blush on his cheeks. “If you’ll allow me, I’ll introduce you to my first mate and then take you to your cabin.” He offered his arm, feeling a thrill when she accepted.

Jon led her to the rudder, where Davos was found speaking to two of his men.

“Your voice reminds me so much of my father, Ser Davos. There are times the deep timbre of it will come back to me. I look forward to us knowing each other better.”

The man stammered an answer, Jon did not think the man knew how. A similar process was repeated with Pyp and Grenn before Jon decided to take her to his quarters.

“Oh, Ser Jon, your room is delightful. I would never have suspected.” Sansa glided into the room before turning in a circle, her skirts flowing as she did so. He was mesmerized by it.

He’d taken care with the captain’s quarters. The wood was kept to a polished shine. A few paintings rested on the walls, mostly ocean scenes. His bed was carved with a lace work pattern and covered with silken sheets and pillows. “Thank you.” He felt uncomfortable, not sure how to answer. “A nice contrast with my wardrobe.” Jon inwardly winced.

She approached him, smiling. “Yes, I’ve heard stories about you. Always dressed in black.” She reached out, stroking his chest.

Jon stiffened, not expecting the contact. “Keeps it easy.”

“Does it?” She arched a brow, studying him. “How do you feel about blue? Or grey? I can’t picture you in red.”

“Red?” He did not follow.

“Yes, red. We will be spending several days together, you could do with a bit of color in your clothing choices.” A pat on his shoulder this time. “It’s settled then. I’ll measure you as soon as I unpack.”

“Measure?”

Sansa did not answer, choosing to walk towards his bed and let her hand glide across the silken covers before turning to face him. Her head tilted ever so slightly as her eyes began a slow perusal over his body. Jon did not miss where her gaze lingered. He resisted the urge to cover his cock with his hands.

“I think we will be great friends, don’t you, Ser Jon?” Her grin reminded him of the purr a cat made before it pounced on unsuspecting prey. He suspected he was the prey.

He did not know how to respond. “Just Jon.”

“Jon,” she echoed, her voice like velvet. Sansa’s pink tongue appeared as she said his name.

He swallowed, growing intrigued. Robb Stark expected him to keep his little sister safely tucked away. Jon would do so but if Sansa Stark wanted a bit of fun first, he’d happily indulge. “Great friends,” he rasped. “Great friends, indeed.”

Sansa’s grin came back. He decided taking her on board may very well turn out to be the best decision of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got a bit darker towards the end than I intended but still mild compared to canon. I guess Jon beating people up does it for me.

Sansa suppressed the tremble of satisfaction coursing through her body. Jon Snow’s heated expression, the clenching of his jaw and feral shine in his eyes, told her he understood her message. She may have little experience with men but she’d learned a great deal from her friend Myranda, and she knew what desire looked like. 

“Very great friendships have been made in less than five days, or so I have heard.” Jon’s lips drew back into a hungry smile and Sansa vowed she would be kissing them before the day was done. Sansa could remember the way Ser Harry looked at her the one time she let him kiss her, it was nothing like Jon Snow. “So, tell me, Jon,” she made sure his name came out a purr, “what color shall we start with?”

He stepped towards her, only a couple paces in their close quarters. “Do you have any other shades of black? It was always my favorite. ”

Jon was so close, Sansa would swear she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Gray,” she said breathlessly. “I have gray.”

“Gray,” he echoed. “I’ve reconsidered.” Jon took her hair, wrapping it in his fist and stroking the ends with his thumb. “Red. Will you put me in red, Sansa?”

She stopped herself before a squeak could pass her lips. She may never have been with a man before but Sansa knew his meaning. “I think you would look very good in red after all, Jon.”

“Will you show me how I look in red tonight?” His voice was low and husky. Jon released her hair, letting his hand fall to her shoulder before sliding down to lightly cup her waist. 

Sansa felt a twinge of trepidation, this was all new to her. But, in five days, her brother Robb would return to take her to visit with their aunt. She knew what that meant, soon after Sansa would be made to marry some second or third son who loved her dowry, not her. She did not want that. “Did you forget the measuring? I dearly hope to look first.”  She hoped that was the right thing to say. 

He smiled, highlighting the lines around his eyes. Jon’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, I wouldn't forget that.”  

He leaned into her and Sansa knew he wanted to kiss her. She bit her lip in anticipation, this would only be her second kiss. Jon’s hand fell lower to her hip as he pulled her against him. Sansa gasped, not expecting the hard feel of his body. She would swear a spell had fallen over both of them. She stroked at his cheek, feeling his whiskers against the tip of her fingers. They were both soft and wiry. 

“Jon,” she whispered. “Do you intend to kiss me?”

“I was very seriously considering it. Would you like me to kiss you?” His voice was low and deep. Sansa thought Jon could seduce her with his voice. She was pretty certain she wanted him too. 

“Yes.” She licked her lips, not knowing what else to say. 

“I think I will then.”  A sharp knock came from the door. “Fuck,” he hissed. Jon must have noted her expression based upon his next question. “Does my language offend you, Sansa?” She did not know how to answer. “Or excite you?”

“Both,” she admitted. 

“I will be sure to remember that later.” Jon made it sound like a promise. “That would be Davos telling me we are departing soon. I need to go,” he said reluctantly. 

“While you be coming back?” She did not get her kiss. 

“Of course.”  He was stepping away from her to move closer to the door. His job as captain was already drawing his attention from her. “You promised me tea and some measuring. Or did you forget?”

She shook her head, feeling pleased. 

“Good, because I most certainly had not. And Sansa?”

“Jon?”

“I think I'm going to like you, very much, no matter what form of friendship develops between us.” He took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist before departing, shutting the door behind him. 

Sansa’s mouth fell open as she stared after him. No one had ever kissed her in such a way before. The warmth of his lips still lingered on her skin. Hurriedly, Sansa opened her trunks to pull out items she would need later that day, including the mint tea she meant to give to the ship’s cook 

She opened the door to find two men standing outside, waiting for her. She recognized one. “Pyp, is it?”

“Yes, m’lady. The captain asked me and Satin here to watch over you.”

He meant guards to watch her every movement. Sansa felt hurt, she knew what that meant. “Where is Jon?”

“Up on the main deck somewhere, or in the navigation room, most like.” 

Sansa would have words with Jon Snow very soon, angry words. “Will you take me to him, Pyp?”

“Yes, m’lady.”

They flanked her, one on each side, quietly leading her to the navigation room where he stood talking animatedly with the man she remembered was called Davos. “Jon?” Conversation instantly ceased.

“Sansa, I did not expect to see you so soon.” His expression told her Jon did not expect to see her at all.

“Am I your prisoner?”

“We didn’t tell her anything, captain. I swear it,” Pyp hurriedly explained.

“I’m sure you didn’t, Pyp,” he reassured before his voice turned harsh. “Everyone leave us. Now.” Jon stood at the edge of a long, wooden table, hurriedly stacking the maps and papers spread out around him. His actions only confirmed her suspicions. 

Sansa refused to wait for his explanation. “You’re a liar, Jon Snow.” He attempted to interrupt so she raised her voice, speaking over him. “My brother said you were his friend and that I could trust you. But, you’re not, are you? You tricked him and kidnapped me. You were only pretending earlier, thinking you could seduce me. But, really you wanted to hold me for ransom.” She could not quite disguise the quiver in her voice towards the end.

His jaw clenched. “Are you done?”

“No,” she said mulishly. “Also, red is no longer your color. I’ve changed my mind again.” 

“That’s disappointing to hear,” he said flatly. His expression changed to a snarl. “Your brother trusted me to keep you safe and I can assure you, it is my intent to do so. Why do you think I asked those two to keep watch over you if not to do just that?” He approached her, not stopping until his body was pressed against hers to whisper in her ear, “As for any seduction, I am quite certain it was the other way around.” 

Sansa began to rapidly blink her eyes before stepping away. “Thank you for your explanation, Ser Jon. I will leave you now.” Sansa did just that, fleeing from the room, ignoring Jon as he called her name. As expected, her guards appeared, ready to escort her the short distance back to the captain’s quarters. She ignored them both, stepping quickly down the narrow ladder before walking into the cabin and slamming the door. 

Alone, she approached the pair of windows in the cabin but there was nothing for her to see, only an endless stretch of blue-gray waves dancing. There was no sign of land or another ship close by. The gentle tilt under her feet confirmed the steady movement, she was being carried further out to sea, away from her brother. Jon Snow had not even seen fit to tell her their destination. Loneliness fell over her. 

She left the window, looking for another form of distraction, and opened the trunk that contained all of her fabric and sewing materials. Sansa made all of Robb’s clothing for him. It always brought her a great deal of comfort, he sacrificed so much for her, at least Sansa could give him this. Robb would never confess it, but she knew he'd only taken up his profession to provide for her. 

Sansa pulled out the black linen from her travel chest along with one of Jon’s tunics she found hidden away. Lacking a pattern and not wanting to cut up his tunic, Sansa laid both on his dining table, licked her lips, and began to cut. 

The morning passed slowly as she began to stitch the pieces together, quietly singing to herself.

“What song is that? I've not heard it before.”  

She started, dropping the fabric and needle in her lap. Jon stood behind her, she had not heard him enter the room. Sansa pursed her lips in displeasure. “My mother taught it to me when I was very young.”  

“Are you hungry?” Jon moved, letting her see behind him. An older man and Satin stood over his table. “Hobb is our cook.”

She stood, setting the contents of her lap neatly in the nearby sewing basket before walking towards the table. There were two bowls and a pot of tea. She glanced at it, curious.

“Word got out you enjoy mint tea so one of my men offered you his.”

“Who?”

“Sam, my sailing master.”

Sansa decided she already liked Sam. “I will tell him thank you later.”

“Go gentle on him, he embarrasses easily.” Jon held out a chair, motioning towards it. “Will you sit?”

She did before looking down at her food, unseeing. Sansa did not feel particularly hungry. 

“I meant to tell you about Satin and Pyp earlier,” he said contritely. “They are protecting you, that’s all. Those two are amongst my most trusted in all the crew.”

“I should not have been so quick to judge, I’m sorry.” She took a sip of what Sansa thought was soup before grimacing.

Jon laughed. “Hobb is a better sailor than a cook. Be warned, it doesn’t get better.”

“I’ve had worse.” Sansa was sure she must have even if no particular memory sprang to mind.

“Somehow, I doubt that.” Jon did not seem to harbor the same low regard for their meal that she did, he ate with abandon. “An accusation of kidnapping and ransom is a serious charge. Can I assume you know what I do?”

She thought of Robb. “Yes, the same as my brother, but it doesn’t matter. He trusted you and I should have done the same. Robb said you would keep me safe.”

“He trusts me, does he?” That seemed to amuse Jon for some reason. 

“Of course.” Sansa wondered about Jon. She’d heard stories, his distinct hatred for slavers and enjoyment of bringing humility to some of his hostages. It was said he was the one who cut off Jaime Lannister’s right hand and killed Ramsay Bolton personally. She doubted all of those rumors could be true. She’d never heard stories about the rest of him though. “Don’t you have any family?”

“Family?” He asked, puzzled. “No, don’t know who my parents were. It was Stannis who took me in as a boy and brought me here.”

“To this ship?”

“The very same, yes. I suppose you could say I was his apprentice.” Jon shoved away his shallow bowl before taking hers. He continued eating.

Sansa chose to pour herself more tea instead. “Will you tell me more?”

“More?” She’d surprised him. Sansa wondered if she was the first to ask Jon any personal questions.

“I’d like to learn more about you, if you’ll let me. Tell me how you met Stannis.”

It took some urging, Jon was a private person but eventually he answered her question. Jon struck her as lonely. No family and only a crew to command rather than friends. They were often parted but she still had Robb. “I made you something. Or rather, I started.” She rose before crossing the room. “It’s only a sleeve so far.”

Jon stroked the material. His eyes narrowed but she did not recognize his expression. “It’s black.”

“Yes, it is dull.” She grinned down at him. “It’s what you like though. I was tempted to embroider a white wolf on it but that would take away the frightening image you like to present to the world. I’ll make a matching handkerchief for you. We can put the wolf on that and give it glowing red eyes. That should make it easier for you to scare everyone away.” 

“Do I scare you?” His voice was low and sounded even deeper than usual to her ears.

Sansa studied him. She wanted to trace the scar across his eye and cheek but resisted. “Not particularly. Or, perhaps, you aren’t trying very hard.”

His nostrils flared and the same gleam she’d seen that morning returned. “Come here.” He grabbed her hips, pulling her into his lap. “Much better. I’ll take that, Sansa.” He took the scrap of fabric she still held and set it on the nearby table. “I do have one request,” he rasped.

Sansa swallowed. She’d never been in such an intimate position with a man before. “What’s your request?”

Jon picked up her hair, twirling it about his fingers. “I’d very much like to be put in red.” He released her hair, letting the tip of one finger trail down the side of her face and neck until it reached the edge of her gown. “Could I do that?”

Sansa felt a tension low in her belly. She gathered her courage. “Yes.” There was no quiver in her voice.

Jon grabbed her hips, pulling her closer, and then his lips were on hers. Sansa stiffened in surprise. “Relax,” he whispered against her lips. She did then, grasping shoulders. This was very different than Ser Harry’s kiss. Jon’s mouth was harsh and demanding. She moaned in pleasure which only stirred him on. He cupped the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him as his tongue slipped past her parted lips. She felt his other hand slid up from her hip to the edge of her gown, tracing the edge along her chest line until it settled over one breast. Sansa experienced her first taste of ecstasy then, she wanted more.  

Another knock came at the door. Jon broke their kiss. “Fucking hell,” he murmured, their lips still touching.  He drew back. “What?” 

“My apologies. There is a ship on the horizon, the flag is a bear on green.” It was Davos again.

“I’ll be right there,” he yelled. “Sansa, you best get up, I need a moment.”

She thrilled, understanding Jon’s meaning, before moving off of him. “Do you have to go again?” Her breathing sounded shallow.

“Yes, and believe me, I’m very sorry.” His heated gaze told her he meant it. 

“Will you be gone a long time?”

“Most likely. The flag was Davos telling me what type of ship it is.” Sansa waited but Jon did not elaborate. He rose slowly from the chair, standing next to her. “I need you to stay in here, can you do that for me?”

She nodded. “Hurry.”

“Your lips are swollen,” he said, looking very self-satisfied. Jon feathered a light kiss against her lips and then he was gone. 

Sansa stood where he left her. A part of her felt elated, she’d gotten her kiss. Another part felt strangely empty. She had not wanted Jon to leave her.  Now alone, she picked up the partially completed sleeve and went back to her sewing. A few times, Sansa looked out the window, but it was only the same blue-gray expanse; there was no other ship that she could see. Above her, there was only quiet, Sansa could almost convince herself she was the only one aboard. 

The silence grew stifling and she began to sing to herself once more but the sudden noise above drowned it out. Sansa could hear a great deal of yelling and cursing but the voices were indistinct to her, trapped alone in the cabin as she was. Then, it grew quiet once more and Sansa waited for Jon to return to her, but he did not. Outside, the sky was starting to darken. Twilight would be on them soon. 

She could not bear it. Sansa stood, facing the door, deciding that she’d not strictly promised to stay in the cabin. She set her sewing down and steeled herself before opening the door once  more. 

“‘M’lady, can we help you?” Pyp and Satin were still at their stations. 

“I need to apologize to both of you. Earlier, I made accusations that were untrue. Will you forgive me?” Sansa desperately wanted to search out Jon too. 

They both stammered their acceptance before Pyp repeated his earlier question.

“Will you take me to Jon, please?” She asked sweetly. 

“I’m sorry, m’lady but we’re supposed to protect you.”

“I’ll be perfectly safe,” she hastened to reassure them both. “Jon told me he trusted both of you above all.” That was mostly the truth. “Now, where shall we go?” She went to climb the narrow ladder, trusting they would both follow.  

Sansa stood on the quarter deck, momentarily confused, until she saw the other ship port side. Grappling hooks and great, thick ropes linked the two ships together. “Will you two help me? I intend to board that other ship.” It’s main deck had a great many men but Sansa did not think she had any need for fear.

“I don’t think the captain would like that,” said Satin. 

“He will, I have both of you to keep me safe, she reminded them, smiling brightly. Sansa went to the main deck, towards the ropes. She eyed the two ships, there was the barest hint of space between the two of them. She started to climb the railing, feeling Pyp’s hands on her waist to help her across.  “That was easy enough,” she said out loud. 

Sansa stood on the second ship’s main deck and went to weave through the small crowd of gathered men. She recognized almost every face but the six or so men tied up and gagged. A few feet away, Jon sat over the seventh, apparently determined to beat him to death. 

She guessed it was the captain but could not be sure, his eyes were swollen shut and his nose broken in more than one place. As best she could tell, Jon’s crew was content to watch him as if it were a mummer’s show. 

“Jon,” she called out. 

He reeled to a stop and stared at her. Sansa thought he looked more beast than man, there was a spray of blood across one cheek and a cut across the other. His knuckles were bloody and torn. “I don’t recall granting you permission to come over here,” he bit out. Jon slowly stood before kicking the man in the ribs. “Fucking slavers,” he grunted. 

Sansa recalled her earlier thoughts about the stories and rumors that surrounded Jon. Sansa looked around, noticing the small group of men sitting against the railing. One of them held a young boy in his arms. It was his son, she realized. They were all farmers and small folk, and each one frightened.

“Hang every one of them until they’re dead and toss their bodies in the ocean,” Jon ordered. He approached the former prisoners. Sansa followed. “If any of you want to join my crew, you are more than welcome. The rest of you, this ship is yours to do with as you see fit.” None of them moved. 

“Jon.”

“What?” 

“Do you know if any of them has the least bit of experience with sailing?” 

A grey-haired man tentatively raised his hand. “I was a sailor with the king’s fleet for many years.”

“Well, there we go then.”

She ignored him. “Where are you from?”

“Bear Island, m’lady. All of us.”

“Well, that’s not so very far.” She looked to Jon for confirmation. “We will make sure you have enough provisions and Jon will appoint a couple of his men to help with navigation.” Sansa knew almost nothing about ships or sailing but she was pretty certain that was correct. 

She ignored his grumble once more to kneel before the little boy and his father. “Hi. My name is Sansa.” The little boy only peered back at her. “Do you have a mother?” A shy nod. “I did too once. We’re going to make sure you get home to her, you and your father both. I promise.” She resisted taking him into her arms. 

Behind her, Jon’s men already had ropes out and were preparing to pass his sentence. He left her side to speak with Davos. Sansa made herself look at the men about to be killed. They did not seem so very frightening to her. 

“Let’s go.” Jon took her arm, leading her back towards the railing. “You were supposed to stay in my quarters.”

“Was I?”

He snorted. “No, don’t play innocent with me.” He scooped her up, practically carrying her over the railing back to his own ship. 

“Where are we going?”

Jon looked at his knuckles. “I need to clean up. After that….” He did not say anything else, leaving her to guess.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon may be stupid, a pirate attack, and then a smut scene that went on far longer than i planned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter...they talk and more smut

He carried her over the railing and back onto his own ship, enjoying the way she grasped at his tunic as he did so.

“Will you be put me down, Ser?” Her voice quivered. Jon planned for her to be moaning instead very soon.

“And risk you running away? No, you’ll be staying here with me.” He pulled her closer, so her chest lay almost flush with his. The skirts of her gown swayed with his movements so the fabric tapped against his thighs. Her shallow breaths were warm against his neck.

“We are surrounded by ocean.”

“Aye, we are, and a ship nearby of men eager to make you their captain.” Jon had not missed the former prisoners’ expressions changing from fear to idealization when she spoke. Sansa would be leading a mutiny on his own vessel if he was not careful. He walked slowly across the main deck, enjoying the cargo in his arms. She squirmed but it made little matter.

“Your men are watching us,” she hissed. He didn’t doubt it. “You will not be able to carry down me down the ladder, the space is much too narrow.” He admired her certainty, even if she was wrong.

Jon set her down on the wooden decking beneath them. “Is that so?” He waited, letting her smooth her skirts. “I always did enjoy a challenge.” He tapped her chin before his finger slid down her throat. Not wanting Sansa to realize his intent, Jon quickly picked her up by her waist and threw her over his shoulder. He ignored her shrieks and the cheers of his men.

Inside his cabin, Jon released her before locking his cabin door.

“That was...that was,” she sputtered, searching for the correct words.

“Chivalrous? Courteous? Gentlemanly?” Or all three, Jon thought, carrying his lady to to their rooms after saving a ship of prisoners struck him as rather gallant, even heroic.

“Ill-done,” Sansa corrected. “You hauled me about as if I were a sack of potatoes.”

“I’ve hauled a sack of potatoes. Believe me, the experience is quite different.”  He poured water from a pitcher into a small bowl, proceeding to scrub the dried blood from his hands, turning the  water a light shade of pink as he washed. The cuts on his knuckles would take some time to heal. Jon turned to face Sansa where she stood by his bed. “I won’t do it again, not without asking first.”

“You have blood on your face.” She spoke quietly, almost a whisper. He hoped it meant she accepted his apology.

“Where?” He splashed water on his left cheek before rubbing at it with the tip of his fingers.

Sansa picked up a nearby wash rag before dipping it in the water and touching it to his nose and forehead. “Here. May I ask what crime that man committed?” Jon did not hear any condemnation in her voice or even an idle curiosity.

“Met him once before, a couple years back. We did much the same then only it seems he didn’t learn his lesson. The fishes should help make it clear.” Feeding them, more like. Jon despised slavers. Even now, so many year later, flashes of memory of his early years in Flea Bottom would come to him. He could still picture the face of the man from so long ago, bald with white powder and long, flowing robes. Jon had run away, terrified as only a small child could be, until he hit Stannis, knocking them both over in the streets.

“Will your men make sure those you saved get home safely?” A storm was coming, he could feel it.

“I got ‘em a ship, didn’t I?”

“That’s not enough,” she admonished. “Saving them is the easy part. You have a responsibility to see them home again.”

Sansa had been aboard for only a day and in that time she’d removed him from his rooms, flattered and frightened half his crew, sent him to fetch tea, planned him a new wardrobe, disobeyed his orders, and now sought to instruct him on piracy. Jon expected he’d wake up the next morning to be told their day would begin with singing lessons. “Aye. I’ll make sure they get home, promise.” He’d pleased her. A knock came at the door. “That would be Hobb with dinner. You didn’t eat much earlier.” She’d nibbled at her plate mostly.

“I don’t feel particularly hungry.”

Jon opened the door, wresting the food from his cook before shutting and locking it once more. He was done with interruptions. “Will you sit with me?” He pulled back her chair, seating her, before doing the same for himself.

“Have you always wanted to be a pirate?” The storm clouds turned from dark gray to black.

Jon swallowed, not sure how to answer. “Once, years ago, Stannis offered to help set me up with a different life.”

“Why did you not accept?” She was not eating. Jon thought perhaps Sansa looked a mite paler than earlier but dismissed the thought. She’d not actually eaten Hobb’s food so accidental poisoning wasn’t possible.

“I considered it. Five days after he offered, we attacked a Lannister ship. They killed him and I took over as Captain.” That was the day he took Jaime Lannister’s right hand and he’d not seen the man since. Jon supposed vengeance against the Lannisters was part of the reason he’d agreed to take on the care of Sansa Stark. That, and the reward her brother offered. Jon recalled their earlier conversation, she seemed to think him and Stark were the closest of friends. He should tell her the truth. “I’ve commanded _The White Wolf_ ever since.”

Sansa reached out, grabbing his hand to stroke his palm. Jon peered at her, expecting to see pity. He did not. Her hair was loose with a certain wildness to it from the ocean wind. The lantern’s soft glow turned it a brilliant sheen, with shades of copper, chestnuts, and a maple leaf in fall. The barest tip of her tongue peeked out between two perfectly red lips. He stood abruptly, coming to stand beside her. “We’re done eating,” he said before pulling her to her feet.

“I didn’t have much of an appetite.”

“I do.” He grabbed her waist, setting her on table and moving between her legs. He traced the edge of her blue gown, across her chest and back before settling between the valley between her breasts. “May I kiss you here?”

“Yes,” she whimpered.

Jon pressed an open-mouthed kiss between the very top of her breasts. “And here?” He asked before repeating the gesture against the base of her throat. Sansa’s head fell back as her chest began to heave with her shallow breaths. He took it as an invitation to continue, cupping her hips to bring her closer to him, as he continued to kiss a path up her neck and to her chin. Jon stopped before reaching her lips. “Shall I go on?”

“I don’t recall telling you to stop.” Her eyes were glazed and blown with arousal. Jon stroked one cheek with his thumb, admiring their rosy hue.

He leaned into her, not quite letting their lips touch. “My apologies,” he whispered, letting their breath mingle. Jon could hear the blood coursing through him. Sansa’s lips parted the smallest amount and he took advantage, pressing his own against hers. She felt soft and warm. Jon cupped the back of her neck, bringing her closer, before sliding his tongue into her mouth. She tasted sweet with the barest trace of mint underneath. Sansa sighed and then he felt her tongue against his. He took the kiss deeper, letting the intensity between them grow.

She pulled away from him, panting. Jon was not sure if the sound he issued was a whimper or a growl. “I want you,” he whispered huskily.

“Jon….”

“Will you let me?” He began to kiss her neck and by her lobe once more. “Will you, Sansa?”

“Yes,” she sighed.

“I want to see you ride me. Will you do that for me?” Jon would not last much longer, he was tempted to cut her out of her dress.

She pulled back. “Ride you? Ride you to where?”

Jon blinked, not quite sure how to answer. He heard confusion in her voice, he knew that much. “Have you never ridden a man before, love?”

“No,” she said quietly, refusing to look at him. The blush on her cheeks grew, but from embarrassment.

“It makes no matter,” he said soothingly before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “However you want me, Sansa, I’m yours. Tell me how you want me and I’ll do it.” He pressed another kiss to her lips, awaiting her answer.

She did not answer for several seconds. Jon’s unease began to grow. “The...usual way,” she said hesitantly.

“The...usual way,” he echoed. Jon recalled the stories he’d heard of Sansa Stark, sweet and innocent, protected from the world by her big brother His heart thundered. “Sansa...are you a maid?” She shoved at his chest, pushing him away. He stumbled back, not expecting it.

“What if I am?”

It changed everything. “Why did you not tell me?”

“Because of your very behavior now,” she bit out. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“Why not?” Jon’s ardor was rapidly cooling. There was more she’d yet to tell him, he was quite certain.

Sansa’s expression grew stubborn. “Robb intends to arrange a marriage to me with a nice, fat dowry as an enticement. If that is to be my fate, I wanted to be with someone who wanted me, not a chest of gold, even if only for a little while.”

Jon’s stomach clenched. Guilt took him. “Tell your brother. He loves you and would never make you marry against your will.”

“I can’t.”

And he could not bed her. “I’m sorry.” He took a step away from her. “We can’t do this.”

“Because I’m a maid.” Jon could see a shine in her eyes before she looked away, casting her eyes to the wood beneath them.

“Yes,” he lied.

“You urge me to not allow my brother to make my choices for me and then you do the same. Please leave.”

“Sansa, I-”

“Get out or I will begin screaming.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, not sure what else to say. Jon did as he was bid, staying on the other side of the door long enough to hear her locking it. He would be sleeping alone that night after all.

Jon made his way back to the main deck to find his crew enjoying their evening. It quickly grew silent once his presence was noticed. “The first one to ask me any questions will be shorter a head,” he barked. He left them to their entertainments in search of a hammock. It’d been years since he slept in one and Jon was not particularly looking forward to repeating the experience.

He rose early the next morning. The sky was still a bluish gray with the barest hint of sunrise on the horizon. It would be another warm day, the ocean breeze already felt moist and heavy on his skin, perfect for committing a bit of piracy and theft. The Locke ship should work quite well as a distraction from the sweet maid hidden away in his quarters. He went in search of Davos and Sam.

“What’s the fate of the Mormont ship?” He asked Davos. Jon meant to keep his promise to Sansa, even if she refused to continue speaking with him

“On it’s way home. Once you left, it turns out a few more had naval experience.”

Jon grumbled to himself but said nothing. Sansa would be pleased and that was the best he could hope for. He put her out of his thoughts, there would be a raid soon and he looked forward to it. Locke was known for paying his men little and treating them worse. Chests filled with silver stags, all bound for the iron bank, sat ready for Jon’s crew to come and take it.

“Sam?”

“If my navigating is right, they’ll be almost on top of us in a few more hours.” Sam was always right. He could find a gray rowboat in the middle of an ocean of gray water if Jon set him to it. His sail master was one of the reasons _The White Wolf_ , and him, held such a fearsome reputation. Jon had heard some of the stories said about him, that he had a special sight or would warg into a bird in the sky to find and search out other vessels. The truth was much simpler, Sam was a very skilled sail master and Jon knew it.

He glanced up, there were only two bodies up top. He wanted that ship. “Davos,” he commanded. “Double the lookouts. I want one for the mizzen, another for the foremast to look forward, and two more at the top of the main mast, looking starboard and larboard. An extra tot of rum for whoever finds it.” He was ready for a hunt. “Where is Smallwood?”

“Hello, Sam.” It was Sansa, she’d slipped into the navigation room without him noticing. She wore a lavender gown this time, one that hugged her chest and hips. A pleasant sight for his men, Jon thought, when they should be reading for war.

“Ah...Lady Sansa, how are you?” Poor Sam was obviously flustered at her attentions.

“I understand you provided my tea yesterday and wanted to thank you.” Sansa gave his friend a demure smile, pointedly refusing to so much as glance at him. Jon grimaced, he was not jealous. Merely annoyed. “Would you care to join me in my rooms? I’d hoped for some conversation while enjoying another cup.”

Poor Sam started pulling at the collar on his tunic. Jon took pity on him. “Go, Sam. See to the lady.” The man took her arm, as if he were a knight escorting his lady love. Jon scoffed, annoyed. Sansa had stolen away one of his most valuable men and he’d made no effort to stop her. He repeated the thought to himself several more times, hoping to convince himself it was not jealousy he felt low in his belly.

Jon went off to finish his preparations. Three hours later, as Sam predicted, a merchant ship appeared, slow and heavy. A Redywne flag flew above him. Several of his men wore a naval uniform in the blue of their house, with a large grape sigil on their breast. He noticed Sansa standing on his quarter deck, watching all the activity beneath her. He considered sending her back to his quarters before changing his mind. Her hair hung loose about her so the wind picked it up, tossing the strands about. There would be no mistaking it, Jon had a woman on board. He gave a sardonic smile, she’d unknowingly helped their subterfuge.

Slowly, they crept up on the vessel and a thrill went through him. “Flag!” The Redwyne flag was taken down, replaced with another, black with a white wolf. Jon half expected the Locke vessel to give up as soon as it was spied. He hoped not.

“Closer...closer…” Jon fingered the sword at his hip. “Closer…” He stood on the main deck, certain he’d be visible from the merchant ship. “Ready! Let’s give the sharks a feast!”

“Smallwood, bombs!” Smoke filled the air of the merchant ship as they lobbed bombs across the bow.

“Hooks!” Todder, Blane, and Buckwell took their positions. Grappling hooks were thrown, one after the other.

Then it was done. As Jon expected, the crew had their hands raised in surrender, only fifteen men in all.

“Where’s your captain?”

A man of middling height, round and red-faced appeared. “Here, milord. Captain Marsh.”

“Any passengers?”

“No milord.”

That was disappointing. Jon hoped one of Manderly’s sons would be aboard. The fat lord would pay a nice ransom to see them returned. “What’s the name of this fine vessel?” Fine was a rather generous description, he thought.

“ _The Gray Flint,_ milord.”

“Not a lord, you best remember that,” he growled. Jon stared back at the red-faced man, waiting until he shivered and turned away. He reminded Jon of a pomegranate. “Jeren, Halder, Wynton, cut the rigging.” He studied the rest of his men, assigning four more with axes to assist. _The Gray Flint_ would be dead in the water soon. Jon glanced back towards his own ship. Sansa was nowhere to be seen.

Later, as _The White_ _Wolf_ set sail once more, Jon listened as Davos recounted the haul they’d lifted. The silver stags were on board, as he’d been told, along with an ample supply of Arbor red, a few pieces of jewelry, cloth of gold, and more. He wondered if Sansa would appreciate the jewelry then dismissed the idea. He didn’t think she would enjoy wearing stolen goods, especially if it came from him.

“Sam, may I ask what you spoke of with the Lady Sansa earlier?”

“Stories,” he said, pityingly. “It seems we share a passion for the stories.”

“I wouldn’t know much about that.” Jon had struggled not to think on her for much of the day, but his efforts were growing increasingly futile.

“She asked after you.” Jon doubted it. Sam patted him on the arm, comfortingly. “You could...perhaps...try again...to…”  His face was slowly turning red with embarrassment.

“Sansa wants someone who cares for her, not ‘a chest of gold’. Those were her words.” Jon waited until he saw the comprehension on Sam’s face. “You see? Her brother is paying us.”

“You could be honest and tell her.”

“Will you have Davos give my share of today’s winnings to the entire crew? Split it equally.” Jon could refuse her brother, Sansa would never know. “Thank you Sam.”

He quietly entered his quarters. Sansa sat alone by one of the lanterns, quietly humming with a needle in hand. “May I speak with you?”

“Of course,” she said stiffly.

Jon stood before her. He felt as if he was confessing all his sins and waiting on her judgment. “Yesterday, you had the courage the admit you were wrong and apologized for it. Well, I’ve been playing craven all day in an effort to avoid you. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted, thank you.”

Jon narrowed his eyes as his lips drew flat. He scratched at his beard, unused to the feeling of vulnerability she brought forth in him. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“You’re not apologizing?”

“No.” His beard itched something fierce and Jon would swear the room was quickly growing warm. “I mean, yes, I am. Last night, I behaved poorly and hope you’ll grant me the opportunity to explain myself.”

She smiled comfortingly, making him wonder how wretched he looked. “What do you wish to tell me?”

He wished to be honest, he wished to have her in his bed. Jon also dearly wished for more than a few more days with her. “I’m a fucking idiot, that’s what I wish to tell you.” She rose, standing next to him, before laughing. Sansa had the sweetest laugh. “The truth is, I’ve been burning for you all day and if you’ll let me….” He tried again. “If you let me, I’m going to kiss you again and tell you that I want to be more than your friend.”

“More than a friend. What does that mean?” He thought her voice was teasing, he hoped so.

“It means I’m mad for you and my lips will be on yours in about five seconds.”

Her hand landed on his chest. “You expect me to wait as long as that?”

“Fucking hell,” he whimpered. Jon cupped her cheeks, pulling her close. “Whatever you want to do tonight, that’s what we do,” he whispered, their lips almost touching. He kissed her then.

Sansa sighed before relaxing against him. He felt her arms around his neck as her body seemingly grew limp. He lightly bit her lower lip and she opened in response. His tongue moved against hers as he slowly invaded her mouth. Jon moved his right hand to the small of her back, bringing her body flush against his. “Feel what you do to me,” he murmured against her lips before kissing her once more.

“Fucking hell,” he said, voice ragged. Sansa smiled up at him, her skin flushed with desire. Jon quickly tore off his boots before placing her hands at the laces of his breeches. “Go on,” he told her. “Take them off.”

Sansa pulled at the laces, her hands shaking ever so slightly but her expression was confident. She pulled his breeches down so he could step out of them. “Your tunic.” He pulled it off, throwing it behind him, not caring where it landed. “Can I touch you?”

“You can do whatever you want with me.” Her eyes grew large as she took several deep breaths at his offer. Jon put her hand on his cock in invitation. Sansa did not speak, stroking him before playing with the curls between his legs. “All black,” she said quietly.

“Is that bad?” He touched her cheek with his thumb, rubbing along her jaw.

She smiled in a way that reminded him Sansa was still an innocent maiden in many ways. “No.” Her flush grew deeper. “I’m enjoying myself.”

He said nothing, letting her explore his body. It was an exquisite torture. Jon began to slowly untie the laces of her gown, waiting for her to object. She said nothing. “Tell me if we should stop, Sansa.” Silently, he begged her not too.

“Don’t stop.”

That was all the permission he needed, Jon’s movements grew desperate as he sought to rid her of her dress. Finally, it slid down her body, pooling about her feet. Jon began to pant at his first glimpse of her body. “You’re beautiful.” He cupped one breast, feeling her nipple grow tight and hard against his palm. “The color of pink roses,” he said absently before taking her other nipple into his mouth and sucking.

Sansa let out a sweet whimper as her head fell back. Jon licked her nipple with the tip of his tongue before repeating the process with her other breast. Her hands dropped onto his shoulders, gripping him firmly.

Jon put his arms under her knees, picking her up.

She grinned up at him. “You promised not to do that without asking permission first.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I lied.” He walked the few paces to his bed and laid her upon it. He looked down on her, one hand grazed along her thigh and up to the red hair on her cunt. That particular discovery delighted him. He stroked her hips and waist before drawing lower. Sansa squirmed and arched her back ever so slightly when his hand drew closer to her cunt once more.

Jon got on the bed next to her. “I want a taste.” He gave a half smile at her quizzical expression but did not explain himself. He drew her legs apart and pressed his hand flat against her thigh. “Relax, I won’t hurt you.” Jon spread the folds of her cunt. “More beautiful than I imagined.” He lay down so his mouth was between her legs. Jon licked her, delighting at the shriek she gave in response. “There you go, Sansa. Only good.” He licked her again before sucking lightly at her bud. Above him, a series of mewling sounds escaped her body as she began to writhe against him. “Put your hands on me,” he told her, placing them on his head. “Like that,” he said as her fingers began to pull at the strands of her hair. The pain only stirred him on. Jon put his arms around her thighs, holding her in place. He sucked and licked at her until she let out a series of screams and her back arched. Jon licked her once, twice more before kissing mound and then her belly.

He stood up on his knees above her. “I’m going to fuck you now.” Jon licked his lips, he could still taste her. “I’ll try not to make this hurt.” He bent over her, keeping his weight on his arms.

Sansa gazed up at him, her eyes full of trust. “I want you,” she said. He could hear the honesty in her voice. “Could you go slow?”

“However you want it, that’s what we’ll do.” He settled between her legs, pulling one over his hip. “Like that.” Jon slid his cock against her, coating himself in her juices then began slowly enter her before stopping, giving her a chance to adjust. He slid in the rest of the way and a groan of pleasure escaped him. He gave a tentative roll against her and paused.

He felt Sansa’s hands on his hips, her nails digging into his skin. “More, Jon. I want it.”

“Fuck, Sansa,” he growled. Jon began to slowly thrust into her, trying his best to be gentle. “Do you know how good you feel?” He lost himself in the pleasure of her tight walls against his cock. He wanted to fuck her into the mattress until she was screaming his name. Tentatively, he went faster, slowly increasing his pace. He felt her fingers glide along his back, her nails raking his skin.

“Jon...I want….I want…” Sansa’s head fell back, exposing her throat to him.

It didn’t matter, he knew what she wanted. “I’m going to fuck you good and proper now, until you’re screaming for me.” Jon bucked his hips against hers, ramming into her so she moaned with every thrust. “That’s it. That’s a good girl, scream for me.”  He thrust into her, feeling a certain madness take him as she grew ever louder. Finally, Sansa began to frantically meet his movements. Jon settled a hand between her legs, rubbing against her bud. “Scream. I want to hear it.”

Sansa screamed as her body grew tense. Jon started to pound into her, grunting, before he quickly followed, spilling his seed into her.

After, he lay on the bed with her in his arms. “How do you feel? Did I hurt you?” His breathing was still ragged as he pressed a kiss to her brow.

“I want to do it again,” she gazed up at him with a mischievous smile.

“Give me a minute, a man needs a bit of time to recover.” He combed his fingers through her hair, feeling content.

Sansa drew herself up, so her chin rested against his chest. “Jon?”

“Yes, love?”

“Last night, you advised me to say what I want. Well, I want you.” A surge of elation went through him. “We only have three more days, but while I’m here, I want us to be together.” The elation left.

Jon wanted more than three days. He didn’t want to Sansa to leave at all. “Whatever you want to do, that’s what we do.” He pulled her close. Jon was well and truly fucked.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sick all week so I sorta feel like this isn't my best work but wanted to deliver something since it's been several days.

Sansa slid from the bed, stepping lightly across the small cabin to her silk robe. She put it on, loosely tying the belt, before combing her hair smooth. She never slept unclothed and had woken to an unfamiliar sense of shyness after sharing her bed with a man.

Jon slept on, unaware of her activity, with his chest and stomach exposed. The silken sheets and blankets lay twisted around him, remains from the previous night’s lovemaking. She could see a scar along the side of his hip, long since healed. His face was relaxed from sleep, the guarded expression he sometimes wore was gone, making him appear younger. Sansa blushed, thinking of the night before. They’d made love a second time, only Jon insisted on kissing every part of her first. She’d giggled a few times from the feel of his rough beard against her more sensitive skin. Then, her giggles turned to moans when he’d entered her. It was different, Jon kept their rhythm slow and gentle. The animalistic frenzy seemed to have left him.

She moved a couple paces towards the cabin’s lone window. It was morning although she could not guess at the time. There was nothing before her but endless blue expanse. Jon’s ship was moving though, Sansa could tell by the gentle rock and tilt beneath her feet. She touched the cold pane of glass, tracing the horizon’s edge with her finger. She did not know where they were going, just as she’d not known for any part of their voyage. Jon’s attack the previous day had come as a surprise too, no one had thought to tell her. She’d come on deck and quickly realized what was about to happen. Sansa had expected a great battle and sword fights. Instead, Jon used speed and his reputation as weapons.

A hand landed on her hip, squeezing lightly before sliding lower to her bottom and settling on the small of her back. “You should have woken me.” His voice was still rough from sleep.

“Where are we going? Do you plan to attack another ship?” If they were, Sansa did not intend to spend the next few days sitting in this small room, waiting for him to decide on a visit.

Jon pulled her back into his arms until she could feel the heat of his body through the silk of her robe. “Back to port.” To wait for her brother, that went unsaid. “I’m not used to sharing with anyone. It wasn’t intentional, keeping information from you,” he apologized.

Sansa had yet to see this mysterious Winterfell. Her brother kept her from the place and she knew Jon would do the same. “What will your men do?”

He snorted. “Spend their share on drink and whores, most like.” She felt his fingers along her neck, gently pulling at the strands of hair by her nape. It felt more as if Jon wanted to create physical closeness between them rather than any sort of seduction. “And before you ask the question, no, I do not partake.”

She had wondered. “Then how do you spend your share?”

“Stannis was a man of great discipline and he taught me well.”

Sansa hummed, feeling the earlier sense of glum leave her. “You have buried treasure.”

“Aye, and I keep the map under my pillow.” A knock came at the door. Jon pulled on a pair of breeches, not bothering with the ties, before opening it to let in Hobb with their breakfast. “Will you sit, my lady?”

Inwardly, she winced at the idea of eating. Hobb’s talents did not lay with cooking. “Grapes and oranges,” Sansa squealed with delight. She grabbed a bunch and quickly ate several.

“You must be hungry. I’ll have some better food brought aboard for you.” Jon began to eat but Sansa noted he left all of the fruit for her.

“Will you tell me some of your adventures, Jon? Your life must be truly fascinating.” Sansa’s was quite dull. She did not want his life of piracy, but that did not mean she was ready to embrace the path laid out for her either.

“Adventure, is it?” He leaned back in his chair, grinning wolfishly at her. It made Sansa think he would announce their meal done and take her to bed. Instead, Jon explained, “In truth, most of the time, this is a life of tedium. Would you like to know how Pyp and Grenn came to join me?”

She did. Sansa enjoyed the rest of their meal as they chattered away. Jon spoke easily now, it was different than their earlier conversations. He’d seemed so very reluctant to share even the smallest personal detail with her. Now, it was the opposite. Sansa could still sense the loneliness in him though. A part of her, maybe even a very large part, wished she could stay with him, rather than return to Robb in a few days. Jon had not expressed interest though, no doubt she would become a pleasant memory for him, one that would fade with time. The earlier feeling of melancholy began to seep into her skin once more.

“What will be doing today?” Sansa mostly asked the question as a distraction from her thoughts. She thought she already knew the answer.

“We’ll spend it however you wish. If my guess is accurate, and it is, we are maybe a few hours from port.”

“Could we visit Winterfell?”

“It’s not safe. That town is full of the worst sorts; thieves, murderers, wastrels, and miscreants.”

Sansa had known the answer before she asked. “I’d like to visit with your men.”

“They would be honored. Do you know what I would like to do?”

She smiled shyly. Sansa knew the answer to that too. “No, tell me,” she said, pretending ignorance.

“‘I’d like to kiss you. Will you let me?”

Sansa could love Jon for that alone. He was always very careful to gain her consent, not only for kisses or lovemaking, but for her companionship as well. He never assumed. “Only if it is a sweet kiss.”

He stood, moving around the table and bringing her to her feet. “Will you settle for hungry and, perhaps, a tad desperate?”

She licked her lips, anticipating the feel of him against her. “That would be acceptable.”

Jon lightly cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers. Sansa leaned into him, resting her hands on his bare chest, enjoying the feel of muscle against her palms. Their lips blended together and then his tongue entered her, eager for a taste. The kiss was gentle and Sansa could almost allow herself to imagine it felt as if Jon loved her.

He broke away to kiss the side of her lip and lower to her jaw before her head fell back and he kissed lower still. “May I?” She felt him tug at her loosely tied robe.

“Yes.”

Somehow, they ended up on the bed together, with Jon on his side next to her. Their kisses were slow and exploring, the urgency of the night before had left them both. She felt the tips of his fingers graze her skin, moving down her sides to her hips and up again, leaving a trail of gooseflesh and shivers in his wake.

“Did you know I worried your presence would be a distraction for my crew?” His voice had grown husky, making her toes curl. Sansa felt him cup one of her breasts, his thumb circling her nipple before squeezing it between two fingers. “Turns out I was only half right.”

“Am I keeping you from your duties, Captain Snow?”

His eyes drew up her body, slowly meeting hers. “No,” he rasped. “Right now, my ship can go hang itself.”

She giggled before shoving at Jon’s chest until he lay on his back.Quickly, Sansa move until she sat astride him. She traced the V of his chest with her finger before pulling lightly at the hair on his chest. Jon did not react, seemingly content to let her explore his body at her leisure. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her up. Sansa trembled as waves of arousal moved through her body. “Jon….”, she murmured, not sure if she was asking a question or begging or something else.

“Like this.” Jon moved a hand between her legs and she felt his cock at her entrance. Sansa lowered herself, moving slightly in experimentation. Jon whimpered. “Oh, fuck Sansa.” That was closer to a growl.

Jon put his hands on her hips, guiding her movements. She followed his directions, lifting herself slowly, rocking against him. One hand slid down between her legs, rubbing lightly against her.  Then, suddenly, Jon was kissing her neck, lightly nipping behind her ear before whispering, “I could watch you for the rest of my days.” It was too much, she felt that now familiar pressure building from their ministrations as she cried out louder and louder. Jon moved, gripping her hips tightly and began pounding into her. Waves of pleasure fell over Sansa as he sought his own release. His movements only grew more urgent as his face and chest turned red. Jon let out a series of grunts before he slammed her down on top of him, roaring, before he grew quiet.  

Sansa collapsed against him, laying against his chest. The cabin was silent, other than their heavy breathing. She felt Jon pulling lightly at her hair, spreading it about. She heard him mumble something but could not make out the words. “What?” She raised her head, letting her chin rest on his chest.

Jon gazed down at her before giving a relaxed smile. “We’ve become good friends.”

She smirked. “I’m not in the habit of welcoming friends into my bed.”

He grabbed her, flipping them so he lay atop her. Jon’s expression grew solemn and several breaths left him before he finally spoke. “Lovers then, as long as...as long as our time lasts.” He kissed her one more time. She enjoyed it, but a part of her remained distracted, certain that he meant to say something else.

Later, she stood on the quarter deck, leaning against the railing. The light wind blew about her, so thick with salt she could taste it. Jon’s crew seemed less wary of her, she noticed, perhaps used to her presence by now. Although she suspected her relationship with Jon was responsible for much of it, there could not be a man left aboard who did not know they’d shared his cabin the night before.

“Grenn, will you escort me to the galley?”  He was the latest assigned to act as her guard. Thick-necked and shy in her presence, Sansa’s attempts to start any sort of conversation had met with failure so far.

Still, he led her to the galley as asked where she found Hobb at work. “Ser Hobb, I wanted to offer thanks for bringing my meals to me these past couple days. You have so many responsibilities, my presence must only add to your burdens.”

The cook only huffed a “Welcome,” before turning away. Sansa sighed to herself before leaving him, taking a small measure of comfort in knowing that she’d tried to be courteous.

“Ser Grenn, you showed a great deal of courage yesterday. I can imagine your crew mates are very thankful for your fierce strength in battle.” He was slow, but a very large man. She’d noticed Jon set him to guard the captured crew, no doubt to intimidate them.

The man kindly led her about the ship, introducing her to those she had yet to meet. Every time Sansa turned her head or glanced about, she noticed Jon, clad in his usual black, watching her. She smiled happily at him once or twice.

Land grew steadily closer, from a green dot on the horizon, ever larger until she could make out the largest buildings in the nearby town and other ships in the harbor. “Will you escort me so we can watch our ship dock?” Sansa took his arm as they made their way towards the main dock on the port side.

“You can go, Grenn. The lady will be spending the remainder of the day with me.” Sansa would swear she heard a faint trace of jealousy in Jon’s voice although she did not know why.  

“Do you need to help?”

Jon stepped behind her, so she stood between him and the railing. “They’ve done this many times before,” he spoke into her ear. “I missed you.”

She laughed. “It was only a couple hours, at most.”

“Aye, much too long.”  He stepped forward, pressing a light kiss to her neck, his beard tickling the tender skin.

“This isn’t proper behavior.”

“Proper can go hang.” Still, Jon stepped away, respecting her wish.

Sansa watched, fascinated, as the ship approached the pier. “What are they doing?”

“Tying a line to the pier. Over there is is the capstan.”

Jon seemed to expect her to understand him. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s a pulley of sorts. Men wind it, slowly bringing us in. Watch there,” he said, indicating the harbor docks.

Sansa was tempted to go below to watch the effort but changed her mind. Jon’s men were at work, not performing a mummer’s show for her amusement. “And soon they will leave us, for their own entertainment, was that it?” She leaned back into him, almost resting on his chest.

“Aye, and I’ll have the pleasure of enjoying the rest of the day with my lady, if she will allow me?”

“She will.”

Their conversation ceased. Soon, Jon’s crew left, only a small skeleton remaining behind. The Winterfell docks were a busy place, she could see men moving about, several of them drunk, even the occasional woman. She peered at the nearby town, curious. From the distance, it was mostly an indistinct mass of wooden buildings. Sansa dearly wanted to visit the place but she knew Jon would continue to refuse if she asked.

Davos, Jon’s quartermaster approached, asking after Jon.

“Sansa, will you excuse me? This may be a little while.” Jon left her alone on the main deck, disappearing somewhere below.

She went back to gazing at the town, wistful. Several minutes passed and Jon did not return. Sansa saw Sam, his navigator, follow in Jon’s footsteps. An idea took her, Sansa sprinted towards Jon’s cabin where a small change purse waited for her. She grabbed it and quickly climbed down the ship’s ladder. Jon would be a while, plenty of time for her to have a small adventure before returning, unnoticed.

Sansa walked towards the town, feeling both brave and wicked. She did not know why Jon and Robb were so concerned for her safety. The town of Winterfell did not look very dangerous to her. She saw a blacksmith’s shop, a dressmaker, several inns, and some rather miserable buildings she thought might be wine sinks. Sansa stayed away from those.

A baker sold his goods on the street. “Are those lemon cakes?” Sansa squealed with excitement to see them. She handed the baker a gold dragon and left with several, continuing her stroll down the street.

Next, she saw a man selling several beautiful pieces of jewelry. They were lovely but she did not purchase any, guessing they were stolen. Sansa could imagine ladies, missing their loves who sailed away on a great ship never to be seen again. It did not feel right to wear their missing pieces.

She walked at a leisurely pace, eating her final lemon cake, enjoying the sweetness. She was hungry and the fruit that morning had done little to fill her belly. Soon, she noticed three women staring at her. Sansa studied each of them in turn. Their clothing was distinct from her own and she noticed paint on their faces. She pushed away the mild sense of discomfort, remembering her courtesies, and approached them.

Not far off, a pair of singers stood next to an inn. Sansa could smell the stink of wine on them, but she ignored it. They sang several bawdy songs, _Her Little Flower, The Lusty Lad,_ and more. She clapped her hands, delighted, before handing each of them a gold dragon.

“That was lovely, thank you both.”

One of them stared back at her, his mouth hanging open. “I know you,” he said accusingly. “You’re Robb Stark’s sister, ain’t you?”

Sansa did not know what to say, so she rushed on through the growing crowds. For the first time, she realized almost all of the men had swords or daggers on them. Blindly, she turned a corner, landing on a street filled with more brothels and wine sinks.

A hand covered her mouth and Sansa found herself dragged into a small alleyway between two buildings. Her feet went through puddles of muddy water and other horrid things she did not care to think on.

The man who took her wrapped an arm around her waist so she could not escape. Further in the alley, two more men stood in wait. One of them approached her, sticking his face into hers. “Robb Stark’s little sister and now Jon Snow’s whore.” His breath stank of rotting onions.

The third stranger held a knife, pointing it at her. “It’s her, Karl I seen her before, on her brother’s ship.” Sansa realized she knew him. It was Dirk. Her brother had him whipped and thrown off his ship for rule breaking. She did not know what rules he had broken though.

“What are we gonna do with her? If those Lannister rumors are true, we won’t get no ransom.” It was the man who held her, Sansa had yet to see his face.

“The Laninisters won’t kill ‘em right away. They’ll want to torture Stark first.” Dirk’s laugh frightened her.

Sansa blinked back tears and tried to wrench herself away but her efforts proved fruitless. The three abhorrent men seemed to find her amusing.

“I bet they’d pay good for her, if they knew who she was. Jaime Lannister hates that Bastard.”

“Might be they’d use her to lure the Bastard too, set out a trap for him as well as Stark.”

“Let’s tie her up. I want Stark to know it was me who delivered his sister to ‘em-” Dirk did not get a chance to finish. Suddenly a dagger was in his throat and horrible wet sounds escaped him. He fell to the ground and did not get up.

Almost as quickly, a second dagger was lodged in Karl’s stomach.

“Did you truly believe I would let you harm Lady Stark?” Sansa sagged with relief, recognizing Jon’s voice. He twisted the dagger before wrenching it free and kicking his legs out “You’ll die slowly.”

Sansa felt the arm around her waist loosen and then disappear. “We didn’t mean no harm. It was only a bit ‘o fun is all.” The hand covering her mouth left her and she heard, rather than saw, him backing away.

“Did they hurt you?”

“They said the Lannisters set a trap for my brother.” Her voice was tremulous and higher-pitched than usual.

Jon did not respond. “You. Tell me everything and I won’t kill you.”

“The girl’s got it wrong. I don’t know nuthin.” He backed up against a wall, taking a few small steps towards the street.

“Pity,” Jon said simply. “You can go, I won’t harm you.” His grin was feral and cruel. It frightened her. Sansa shivered, realizing Jon enjoyed the fear he instilled in the stranger. Her captor took another creeping step and Jon stepped towards him, lodging his dagger into the man’s hip. “Has your memory improved?”

Sansa felt tremors running through her as she stared down at the two bodies. One of them was still alive. She stepped away from them both, hugging herself.

She looked on in horror, realizing the one who’d held her had soiled himself. “I don’t know nothin’, I swear it. There’s rumors saying the Lannisters set a trap for Robb Stark. A whole fleet o’ warships is waiting for ‘im."

“There’s a half maester only two streets away. If you can get to him, he’ll stitch up that cut for you.” The man took another small step but Jon blocked him, promptly slitting his throat “Did you truly believe I’d let you leave?”

Sansa looked at the three bodies around them, feeling herself growing cold. Jon had blood on his tunic and face. “We have to help my brother, Jon.”

He held out his hand towards her. “Sansa, come here.”

“Did you hear me? The Lannisters want to hurt my brother. We have to go help him.”

“We will figure out what to do, Sansa. Now come here,” Jon said soothingly. He took a small step towards her, his arm still outstretched.

“No. We have to help. He’s my brother and your friend and he needs you,” An expression flickered across his face and disappeared. It was guilt, she realized. “Are you going to help me?”

“It’s not so simple.” He used the same tone. Sansa hated that tone.

She took another step away from him. “It is.”  She wiped at her eyes, refusing to cry in front of him. “If you don’t want to help me, I know who will.” At least, Sansa hoped she did.

Quickly, before Jon could react, she turned and ran away from him, disappearing into the masses of people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious how Jon found her so quickly, he'll tell you in the next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny bit of darkish Jon at the beginning, the start of a plan, and a fluffy ending.

She sprinted away from him, out of the alleyway, quickly losing herself in the crowd of people on the nearby street. Briefly, Jon worried their activities had been seen by others before deciding he didn’t much care. He took a step to chase after her but a weak groan at his feet stopped him. Sansa had been easy to find once, the second time would likely prove the same.

Jon squatted down next to the third man, the one he’d stabbed in the gut. His innards lay on what remained of his stomach while a red trickle fell from his lips. Tenderly, Jon stroked the wretch’s cheek. “I can’t decide whether to make your death a painful one or to grant you mercy. Would you care to offer me some counsel?”

“Mercy. Mercy milord,” he said, in a wet, coarse whisper.

“That will be difficult. You attempted to steal away the woman I love and that does not put me in a particularly forgiving mood. So, let’s make an arrangement. You answer all my questions and I’ll give you mercy.” Jon got a hurried nod for an answer. “Where is Robb Stark being held?”

“Somewheres near Lannisport milord. He’s on a Lannister ship, so says the rumors.” Another trickle of blood spilled down his throat. Jon would need to be quick.

“Which one?”

“The _Red Lion ,_ him and his crew. Supposin’ they’ll be hanged as a warning to you and others.”

“And the Lady Stark?” Jon thought he already knew the answer but wanted confirmation. Sansa would make a rich prize, a last bit of torture for her brother and a lure for him. Gossip spread quickly, Jon would not be surprised if word of their relationship was already known.

“Jaime Lannister has a bounty on you, milord.”

Jon thought to ask more but decided against it. The man knew nothing but rumor and hearsay and he needed to find Sansa. “Thank you for your assistance.” Jon slid the dagger into the wretch’s heart, listening to the wet hiss leave his body. “Enjoy your mercy.” He quickly wiped the dagger clean on the dead man’s breeches and left the alleyway.

His presence was immediately noticed by all those in the street. For the first time, Jon felt the blood in his hair and on his face. His black tunic hid the red blood but was still obviously sodden. He considered where to go next, Sansa was not particularly good at escaping if her last attempt provided any clue. She’d left a rather obvious trail in her wake. Deciding, Jon turned towards the wharf, ignoring the stares of those around him. Sansa was frightened when she left him, he suspected she’d seek out the familiar.

He stumbled upon Grenn in front of the brothel that Sansa had visited not so long ago. “Have you seen Lady Stark?” Passing out more of her gold dragons, most like.

“Captain, you’re bleeding,” Grenn exclaimed. “On your clothing, that is. The blood, I mean. Not the bleeding.”

“It’s not mine. Have you seen her?”

“Lady Stark.” Grenn’s cheeks pinkened. Jon felt a disquiet, seeing that. “Yes, Captain, I saw her not more than a few minutes ago. She said you sent her to the ship and asked me to wait for you.”

Jon’s disquiet grew. “Did she now?” He wondered what sort of mischief she was up to. Sansa would not be sitting meekly in his cabin, Jon knew that much. “Let’s go then.” Instinct told him he would not like what awaited him.

He did not. “Put the rope ladder down,” he ordered. Sansa was bent over the side of the ship, staring down and awaiting his arrival. Sam stood next to her, looking as if he couldn’t decide between sicking up or running away.

“I will not. This is my ship now and I’m not giving you permission to come aboard,” she retorted. The ladder did not lower, as if to reinforce her point.

Jon pulled at the hair on his head. It had grown stiff from the dried blood, he probably looked a fright. “Sam, lower the rope.”

“The lady needs our help, Jon. We should be helping her,” his navigator pled. “It’s only right.” Sam made no move to do as bid.

“Where’s Davos?” Hearing his name, the man appeared so the two of them were flanking Sansa. It took a cursory glance for Jon to realize this would be another futile effort. His old friend would only see a young girl in need of help.

An audience was slowly forming behind him, curious. The ship was riding high enough in the water, he could not scramble aboard. Jon would need to find another way to make an end of this and he needed to do it quickly. “Sansa, this ship is dead in the water without a crew. You aren’t going anywhere.”

“The crew is welcome. You are not.”

Sansa leaned further over and Jon felt his temper flare. “Those are my clothes,” he said accusingly. She’d changed since he’d seen her last. “You are not the captain of my ship, Sansa.”

“Does it matter? I’m up here and you’re down there.” Sansa smiled, feeling confident of her victory. “If you want the ladder down, agree to help me rescue my brother. Swear it.”

“Aye, I swear it,” he said, defeated. Jon had immediately realized he’d gone about comforting her the wrong way back in the alley. She’d wanted a promise, not reassurances that all would be well. Still, the knowledge that she trusted him so little rankled. “I swear it,” he repeated.

“Swear more. Swear you’ll tell me where we are going first. Swear you won’t keep any more secrets from me. Swear it on something important.”  Davos stood next to her, gazing in adoration at the daughter he always wanted.

Jon’s lips twisted. “This is ridiculous,” he grumbled quietly to himself. He looked back up at Sansa, who glared down self-confidently. “I swear I’ll tell you where we are going first from now on. I swear I won’t keep any more secrets from you.” Jon noted Sam’s expression. His navigator did not miss that choice of words. He fumbled, trying to decide what Sansa would consider to be ‘something important’. “I swear it on you,” he finished lamely.

The ladder appeared. “You don’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Not a single fucking word,” he said to Grenn first.

“I won’t tell anyone, only Sam and Davos.”

Jon did not bother pointing out the two of them already knew. He boarded, Grenn following behind. He ignored Sansa, sweeping past her, intent on reaching his cabin. Inside, he quickly stripped to rinse himself clean.

“Thank you for your offer of assistance.” Sansa moved to sit primly at the edge of the bed. “I’m very sorry we had a disagreement.”

Jon pulled at his wet hair so it no longer covered his eyes, certain he’d misheard. “Yes, it’s a very great pity.” He went back to cleaning himself. Jon did not want to touch her with the blood of a dead man on him. “Your brother is alive, at least for now. He’s being kept on a ship near Lannisport, no doubt to make rescue more difficult. There’s someone we need to visit before we plan anything else.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I asked a few polite questions after you ran away from me again.” He studied Sansa. She sat leaning forward with her head bowed. Her expression was hidden away by her hair. The last vestiges of his anger drained from his body. “I tried to tell you it would not be so easy, not that it was impossible,” he said, more calmly this time. Jon sat next to her, close enough so their thighs met, but made no further effort to touch her.

“You found me very quickly.”

Jon snickered. “You paid a gold dragon to the baker. You passed out more to three whores and a pair of singers. A lady dressed in silks and passing out gold dragons is a very rare sight. Next time, limit your generosity to stags.”

“I was trying to be courteous. Lemon cakes are my favorite and I enjoyed the music. As for the ladies, it would have been ill-mannered of me not to greet them.” Sansa leaned against him, tentative. “You’re still naked.”

Jon stroked the black collar of the tunic she wore. “I’ll take your gown, seems fitting. I’m also going to make you swear.”

Sansa stiffened. “Swear to what?”

He smirked, enjoying her reaction a bit more than he probably should. “Swear to hear me out and let me explain rather than assuming the worst. Can I ask what sin I’ve committed to make you trust me so little?”

“I swear it, Jon. I will, I promise,” she said hastily. “It’s no sin on your part. Most of my life, there’s been only one person I could trust. He’s gone.” Her voice lowered to a whisper at the end, he did not miss her pain.

It struck him, her experiences were not so different than his own in some ways. Jon felt a twinge of guilt, he should have realized it earlier. She had. “Sansa, will you look at me?” She did, her blue eyes meeting his gray. He was a man lost, Jon knew. “You’ve got me too. As long as you want me, I’m yours. Can I kiss you?” She smiled shyly, nodding. Jon clasped each of her cheeks, keeping his touch gentle as he pulled her close. Their lips met and he felt rather than heard her sigh. Jon kissed her tenderly, making no effort to deepen it.

He pulled away before pressing a final kiss to her bottom lip. “Let me dress. There is someone we need to meet.”

“Who?” she asked breathlessly.

“Calls himself the Hound. He used to work for the Lannisters, once. Be warned, he’s not a particularly pleasant individual.” Jon stood, kissing her brow, before quickly dressing.

“Then what do we do?”

“I really don’t know yet,” he said honestly. “We learn what we can and then decide. I can say this though. I’ve worked with your brother many times; he’s not the type to sit in the brig and wait for rescue.” Robb Stark didn’t strike him as one to get caught in a trap so easily either, he was smarter than that. Jon wondered over it.

Dressed, he led Sansa to the deck. She still wore his clothing, it stirred him. Leaving her with Sam, Jon sought out Grenn. “Go to the baker and buy up every lemon cake he has. Then have him make more.” After, he went to collect Sansa. “Shall we go?”

“People are staring at us.” She clung to his arm.  Memories of the earlier attempt to steal her away was likely on her mind, Jon suspected.

He glanced about, it was the usual crowds he would expect to find at the wharf. “You are in my clothing and most of them saw our little display earlier. You do realize you managed to undo a reputation I built over several years in a matter of minutes, correct?”

She stopped short. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention. It was all I could think to do,” she said guilty.

Jon briefly kissed her, feeling a curious mix of pride and love. “Please don’t be.” He led her away from the town, towards the uninhabited side of the island. “Sandor Clegane isn’t one for neighbors. Remember what I said about him.”

Jon led her to a small cottage, with a thatched roof and the white paint peeling off. It was surrounded by a small yard of mostly dead grass. No knock was required, Clegane opened the door as they approached.

“Not interested, Snow. Bugger off.” Jon thought Clegane spoke with rather less anger than usual.

“I think you are. It concerns the Lannisters.”

The Hound’s gaze roamed over Sansa, lingering a bit too long on her teat’s in his opinion. “Come in.” He invited them inside, to a barren room and a simple wooden table with four uncomfortable chairs. “Fucking with the Lannisters is a good way to end up dead.”

“Not asking you to join us, Clegane. We only want some information.”

“They took my brother prisoner and plan to kill him, but his only crime is trying to care for me. If you could help us, I’d be very grateful.” Sansa spoke sweetly, as she always did. Jon was not sure how well it would go over with Sandor Clegane though.

“You’re Robb Stark’s little sister, a real pretty little thing. His only crime, is it? Your brother kills people, the same as him and I do. He steals too, same as the Lannisters, the same as the rest of us.”

Sansa raised her chin. “My brother is a good man who has sacrificed much for me. I’m sorry your life has led you to only seeing the worst in people. That strikes me as a rather miserable way to live.”

“Can you tell us who captains _The Red Lion_? I’d also like to know the whereabouts of Jaime Lannister. It seems he’s looking for me so I thought I’d save him some trouble.” Jon wanted his questions answered so they could go. Sandor Clegane was a dog, Sansa’s efforts to appeal to his better nature would only meet with failure.

“Joffrey Lannister, the fucking waste, that’s who. His bitch mother seems to think him a great leader of men, everything a Lannister should be, fool that she is.”

“Good.” Joffrey Lannister was impulsive, hot-headed, craven, stupid, and cruel. “What of his uncle?” Or father, if the rumors were true.

“Him and his bitch sister had a falling out recently. He took a good portion of their fleet and left.”

So, the supposed warships didn’t exist. It would be the two Lannister fools they would be fighting. “Do you know where?”

“Why would I care when it doesn’t concern me? I left their service. Even a dog gets tired of being kicked after awhile.” He stood, towering over the two of them. Jon guessed it was deliberate. “Enjoy playing the hero. If Stark didn’t want to die, he shouldn't have gotten himself caught.”

There was nothing else to be done. In truth, Jon half expected the man to refuse to speak with them at all. “Let’s go, Sansa. We’re done here.”

They were at the door when she wrenched herself from his grasp to face the Hound once more. “There are heroes in this world. Jon is one and so is my brother.” She crossed the cottage’s threshold before calling back, “Thank you for helping me today.”

“Told you, didn’t I?” he asked, a short while later.

“I pity him, mostly. He called himself a dog."

He was, but Jon kept silent. It was twilight when they first stepped outside. Their stroll back to the wharf was a slow one, with Sansa chattering away for much of it. Jon listened, content, sensing she wanted to distract herself from worry over her brother.

“Supper should be waiting for us.” Jon helped her up the ladder before following after. “I have one quick task to do and then we eat.”

“What is it?” She expected him to send her away. He’d be disabusing her of that notion, quickly.

Jon smiled down at her. He grabbed a strand of Sansa’s hair to twirl with his fingers. “Come with me and see.” That pleased her. They went in search of Davos. “Find all the men. I want them back here by morning. Provisions too, enough for at least a sennight. Have Edd so to it. We leave tomorrow for Lannisport.”

Davos beamed with pride. Jon wanted to roll his eyes. “Will we be assisting Lady Stark then?”

“Yes,” he answered shortly. The morning would be enough time for Jon to think up some sort of plan that would not lead to them all dead and Sansa a prisoner. Or so he hoped.

Sansa said nothing but he could feel the current of excitement running through her body.

“Jon...this is...this is…”

“Supper,” he finished for her. “I wanted to surprise you.” He held out a chair for her to sit before doing the same on the opposite side of the table. He’d arranged for a meal to delivered to them that morning, roast ham, greens, parsnips, honeyed carrots, and bread. There was also a plate of lemon cakes, waiting to be devoured. “Let’s enjoy ourselves. Tomorrow, Hobb cooks for us.”

They ate slowly, savoring their meal and several cups of Arbor red. Finally, the hour drew late and he undressed them both before carrying her to bed. There, Jon pulled her into his arms before settling the blankets over them both. A part of him wanted to fuck. Instead, he kissed her brow and combed his fingers through her hair.

“Do we have a plan?” Her head rested on his chest. Jon could feel the warmth of her breath when she spoke.

“Not a good one. The Lannisters have a bounty on me. You’re going to turn me in and collect it.”

“I’m not particularly fond of your plan.”

“Nor I.” That made her laugh. He loved the sound. “We aren’t without hope. I’ve worked with your brother many times, Sansa. Believe me, he’s not the type to wait for rescue.” The puzzle still worked at him, Robb Stark was not one to so easily fall into a trap either.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” She sighed, hesitating. “You said I could have you, as long as I wanted.”

“Yes, I meant it.” He meant he didn’t want her to leave him, ever. “I don’t want five days with you, Sansa. I don’t want a ‘friend’.”

She stroked his chest with one finger, mulling over what he’d said. “What do you want?”

Jon thought he heard hope in her voice. It struck him, Sansa had no reason to think he wanted more than a lover in his bed. He’d implied exactly that, in word and deed. Jon didn’t know if it was the wine or the realisation, he felt emboldened. “Right now, I want to hold you in my arms as you fall asleep. After that….after that, I want us together, always.” He blinked, steeling himself. “I want everything, Sansa. I want it all. What matters though is what you want, because that’s what we do.”

“Jon, that’s-” She didn’t continue, choking up. He felt her wipe at her cheeks in the darkness. “I want that too.”

“Well, that’s something, isn’t it?” They quietly laughed together. He kissed her brow. “Let’s go to sleep, love. We’ve got a rescue to plan first thing in the morning.”

Sansa fell asleep quickly, which he expected. The failed effort to steal her away frightened her more than she’d ever admit. Jon lay there in the darkness, listening to her breathing. It occurred to him, either his plan would end in disaster, or Jon would get everything he always hoped for, but never dared dream of.

“I love you,” he murmured, promising himself she would be awake the next time he spoke the words.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut, some fluff, and planning.

Sansa jolted awake before opening her eyes to a darkened room. Her heart was fluttering. She did not know the hour but it was clear something had roused her.

“You had a nightmare,” said a voice behind her, rough and groggy from sleep. “You were twitching about and mumbling but I couldn’t make out the words.” Jon pulled her further into his arms so her back was covered by the warmth of his chest. He combed the strands of her hair, settling it so her neck was bare.

Her memories of the dream were already fading, leaving only the occasional image and a lingering sensation that made her want to shudder. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” she apologized. Sansa pulled Jon’s arm further over her side, cocooning herself against him.

He yawned. “I’m glad you did. Will you tell me your dream?”

She’d rather not remember. “I was alone.” Sansa was on a pier, watching helplessly as a ship disappeared into the horizon. The particulars were lost to her but she knew if the ship disappeared, it would take all her hopes with her.

“It was only a dream.” She knew that, she wasn’t a child. “After Stannis found me, I used to dream about food. I’d beg for it but no one ever heard me, no matter how much I cried or how loud I screamed.”

His admittance startled her some. Sansa wondered if it was an effort to commiserate with her fears or perhaps some revelations were easier to share in the darkness She guessed the latter. Jon shared more and more of himself with her, but it was a morsel at a time rather than an entire meal. Some instinct told her it was more than he’d given to anyone. “Do you still have those?” she asked curiously.

“Not nightmares. Not for many years.” Jon breathed deep, enough so his chest pressed against her before loudly exhaling. “Lately, my dreams have been ones of possibility.”

“I like that.” Sansa didn’t push him further, she didn’t need too. Jon was a much different man than what he showed to the world. “I don’t like your plan.”

Jon snorted. “Throwing me to the lions with the hope I stumble upon Robb Stark and we fight our way out of it? It’s one of my best ones yet.” Sansa wrinkled her nose at his sarcasm. “Come up with a better one and I’ll listen.”

“Do you mean it?” she asked, testing the waters below.

“You asked me,” he mumbled, confusing her until she remembered their earlier conversation. “Yes, I meant it. Bring me something we can work with. For now, we need to go back to sleep. Leaving port in the morning.”

Sansa closed her eyes, attempting to relax but it was no use. She was alert, her mind filled with worry. Behind her, she could feel the muscles of Jon’s body slowly relax. It was not at all fair, she decided. Sansa took his hand from where it lay across her hip to draw up her body, placing it on one of her breasts. The darkness leant itself to a certain daring.

He squirmed behind her. “Still awake,” he said, voice roughened. It wasn’t a question. “Do you mean to use me as a sleeping draught?”

Her eyes shot open at the suggestion. “That’s not what I meant.”

Jon laughed indulgently. “I know. Can’t a man tease his lady?” He tilted her head so she faced him in the cabin’s blackness and their lips brushed together. “Put your leg over mine.” Sansa fumbled before feeling his hand stroke up her thigh as he settled closer to her. Their kiss was gentle and leisurely, both of them more eager to enjoy the intimacy between them than fueling desire.

She reached behind her, finding his body to rub her palms down his side. Jon slid into her and they moved together in a rhythm that matched their kiss, unhurried and decadent. Sansa could feel even the smallest movements and touches. They were more than lovers sharing a bed.

Afterwards, they stayed as they were, a mess of limbs knotted and twisted up together. Jon was still inside her and seemed content to stay that way.

“Go to sleep, love,” he said hazily, already drifting away to his dreams. Sansa quickly followed, knowing the nightmares would not return.

Sansa woke the next morning to Jon nuzzling at her neck and his hands determinedly exploring her body. They made love one more, with all the urgency that was missing the previous time. After, she dressed in a gown of light green silk, with a pair of slippers in a matching shade. Not surprisingly, Jon wore his usual dull and uninspired black. Sansa wisely kept quiet.

Hobb brought them breakfast, and somehow, with great discipline, she withheld a delighted shriek until he left. Sansa may not enjoy the man’s culinary skills but she did not want him to know that. “I wasn’t expecting more lemon cakes.” She bit into one with great abandon. There was fruit too, she was relieved to see. Sansa would not be so hungry on this voyage.

Jon sat across from her, slouching back in his chair and slicing an apple with his knife. He handed a slice over. “I sent Grenn to the baker encouraging him to make you more. If I know Grenn, his size alone probably frightened the poor man into staying up the entire night.” He laughed, cleary amused at the idea. “I would have done so earlier if it meant I could enjoy watching you eat.”

“I hope you paid him well enough so he can spend today resting.”

“He’ll survive,” Jon said dismissively. Sansa squinted her eyes in disapproval. Jon smiled playfully and bit his lower lip. “He was well compensated, I assure you. Do you mean to see me punished?”

Sansa giggled. “It would be no more than you deserve.”

Someone knocked at the door and Grenn entered after Jon’s acknowledgement. “The dog is here. Not the animal one, the human one.”

Her eyes went round and her brows lifted with surprise. “Sandor Clegane from yesterday?”

Jon grimaced. “Did he tell you his purpose?” he asked in a voice devoid of enthusiasm.

Grenn picked at his collar before motioning towards her. “Yes, Captain. He wants to see her. Can I send him away, please?” he asked plaintively.

“No, keep him on deck with as many eyes on him as you can,’’ Jon said reluctantly. “I’ll send for him shortly.”

“Why do you think he wants to see me?” she asked after they were alone once more.

“I suspect he wants to see what lays between your legs,” Jon groused.

“That was rather coarse,” she admonished.

He casually lifted his shoulders. “Doesn’t make it untrue.” She thought he sounded rather jealous and petulant but stayed quiet. “As long as he’s on board, you’re either with me or Grenn and Satin.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Sansa was hurt by this latest order, she had not expected it, especially not after what they shared. “I’d thought you’d come to see me as a…” she trailed off, struggling for the correct word. They were not married and she did not want to use the word mistress. Sansa wanted to believe he cared for her more than that. “A partner,” she finished, deciding it was close enough.

Jon put his apple down and leaned forward in his chair. “I think of you as more than a partner, Sansa,” he said solemnly. He scratched at his beard before cupping his neck to rub at the whiskers there. “It’s not you I distrust, it’s him. Or perhaps you’ll have him hopping on one foot and baying at the moon soon enough. You did much the same to the rest of my crew, why not him? I’d like to see that.” Jon cackled, amused at the image he created.

“Perhaps I’ll make you do it,” she challenged.

Jon rose and moved to stand over her. “For you, gladly,” he said darkly. It made her shiver. He spread her legs to kneel between them. “I meant what I said to you last night, know that. We have more to speak of as well.” He learned forward and Sansa began to close her eyes, thinking he meant to kiss her. Instead, Jon rose and opened the door, barking out an order to fetch the dog to whoever stood on the other side.

“It would be poor manners to call him that in his presence,” she chided.

“Aye, I’ll be sure to astound him with my easy disposition and gentle breeding.” After a very short while, Sandor Clegane appeared, two of Jon’s crew flanking him. “State your business.”

“You can lose the two rats. We both know I could cut them down with little trouble.” Sansa didn’t doubt it. He called himself The Hound, she thought him a rather beastly sort of man.

“And we both know you wouldn’t leave this ship alive. Now state your business or leave.”

Sandor Clegane stood there with his cheek twitching. “I came to offer you my services. If you’re going to fight the Lannisters, I want in.” He was speaking to her, not Jon, Sansa noticed. “You need me, even if you don’t know it yet.”

Sansa stood and offered her hand but he did not accept so she pretended it never happened, “Thank you for your assistance, Ser. I accept gladly.” Jon snorted which she ignored.

“Not a ser.” She recalled Jon saying something similar once before.

“Very well. May I call you Sandor then? It’s rather familiar but I refuse to call you by an animal, no matter how fond of them I may be.” Jon snorted again. She ignored that as well.

“Now that farce is done,” Jon grumbled. He walked past her, towards the door, pausing to whisper in her ear, “This cabin smells like fucking.” Sansa sniffed before covering her mouth with shock. The glint in his eyes told her it was the reaction he hoped for. Jon opened the door to send someone after Davos, Sam, and Edd.

That worried her, Sam had been so very sweet the afternoon they spent together. She did not know how Sandor Clegane would behave towards him. Not well, she expected. Quickly, the six of them were seated at the captain’s table with Jon at the head and her seated to his left. Jon took her hand to press an open-mouthed kiss to her palm, branding her for everyone in the room to see. Sansa could not prevent the flush on her cheeks even if she did not entirely approve of his behavior.

“If reports are true, _The Red Lion_ is close to Lannisport. My guess, they’ll be closer to the Feastfires, west of it somewhere. Joffrey Lannister lacks the wits to tell bravery from stupidity. If it was his uncle, he’d hope to trap us in the bay somewhere, closer to Lannisport support.”

Sansa listened to Jon patiently, doing her best to picture what he described on a map. She felt ignorant as understanding of how little she knew settled in. She could not plan a naval battle or chart a course or plan any sort of strategy. Jon included her as a form of evidence that he meant to keep his word, he knew it was very possible she would have little to contribute. The realization stung. Still, he’d told her to present a better plan and she would try to do exactly that.

“One place or the other, I’ll find it for you,” said Sam. “Jon, can I ask how do you plan to attempt a rescue? It seems to me we have nothing to bargain with.”

“Not quite, we do have one thing. Me.” The table erupted almost before he finished speaking.

“They’ll kill you first and then decide to come after me, no doubt.”

“Jon, speaking as a friend, that’s a very bad plan.”

“So you and the Stark boy can die together like a pair of buggering heroes.”

“If Stannis were with us, we both know he’d caution you against this plan.”

Sansa sat in her chair, feeling glum. She’d known this but hearing everyone speak so rapidly and vehemently only confirmed her suspicions. Guilt gnawed at her.

“Will all of you shut up?” The table quieted. “Joffrey Lannister is a hot-tempered lackwit and an easily goaded one. All I need to do is get to Stark.”

“Then what?”

“Then you rescue us,” Jon said, as if this were obvious. “As I said, I’m a rich enough prize the fool won’t think straight.”

She couldn’t do it. “You have another prize. Me,” she blurted out. Sansa was Robb Stark’s little sister, that had to matter.

“The little bird has the right of it. They would love to torment her hero brother.”

Jon merely glowered at her. “Not an option. I’m not going to risk you.”

“Why not? Everyone is right. I can’t fight or plan battles. I don’t know how to captain a ship. But, we could use me to get in close. I could offer an exchange or to bargain, distract them so you can attack.” She was speaking rapidly, the ideas barely occurring before she said them. Still, Jon did not stop her. “Sandor can be my escort, if it seems I’ll be captured then he can pretend to turn his cloak so I’m not alone. Please, I know it will work.” She was pleading, she knew but it could not be helped. It also did not matter, he was going to refuse. “I trust you.” Jon’s expression shifted at that, growing soft as some of the tension left his jaw.

“It could work, Jon.”

“This way, they wouldn’t kill me so quickly. That might be nice.”

Jon’s expression twisted into a snarl as his lips flattened. “Everyone out,” he growled. As soon as the room emptied, he turned to face her. “After I promised your brother and you, after everything between us, do you truly believe I would hand you over so easily?”

“You said to bring you a better plan,” Sansa said cautiously. “I am right.”

“No, you’re not.”

Sansa started to insist that she was before recognizing the futility of it. “You were the one that told me to speak up if I didn’t want to do as my brother wished, that I had some say in my life. Did you mean it?”

Jon’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, knowing where she intended to lead him. “You know I did. Even if nothing had ever happened between us, I’d say the same.”

“Then don’t I get to make my own choice here, too? I can’t fight, Jon, but I am very good at flattery. You have your skills and I have mine. Let me use them.” Sansa stopped herself from fisting the skirt of her dress. She needed to be brave for Jon.

His jaw tightened but he did not give her an immediate answer. He was trying to find a better course of action, she knew. Sansa also knew he would not. “Use me to bargain with then. They won’t harm you with that.” He stood abruptly and pulled her upright so she sat on the table before him, as if serving her up for a feast. “Tell them you know my location and will give me up in exchange for your brother. If the part about Jaime Lannister is true, his sister will accept it. Her desire for vengeance will override good sense.” Jon’s eyes blazed for a moment before turning soft as he focused on her.

A part of her was tempted to ask him if some of the stories she’d heard were true but decided against it, they didn’t matter, not to her. “So you agree then, this is a better plan?”

“I think it’s a slightly less awful pile of shit.” Sansa clucked her tongue with disapproval which only made him chuckle and start untying the laces of his breeches. “After this is done, I’m going to speak to your brother.”

“About what?” she asked curiously.

Jon’s breeches were slung down to his thighs. He grasped both her hips to bring her to the edge of the table. “About something that will make this decidedly more proper. Raise your skirts for me.”

Sansa did as told but left her small clothes in place, Jon could see to them. “You will not be telling him of what we’ve done.” The very idea was galling.

Jon’s eyes darkened and his lips drew back into a wolfish smile, a predatory smile. She spread her legs further before reaching to stroke the thick length of him. Sansa loved doing that. “Yes, I will.” He untied her small clothes. “If it means marrying you, I’ll sing it to him.”

Sansa’s jaw dropped, that was not expected. She tried to summon an answer but her gasp turned to a loud hiss as Jon slammed into her. Sansa’s body fell back from the shock until Jon grasped the nape of her neck to pull her closer. “Do you mean it?” She sounded delirious to her ears, her voice slurred from the sudden invasion and unexpected pronouncement.

“Every fucking word,” he rasped. Jon’s lips crashed onto hers with a searing frenzy, his tongue both greedy and starving. It was a bruising kiss, lustful and animlistic. He started to yank at the top of her gown. Jon broke away to whisper, “Show me your teats,” before kissing and nipping at her chin and by her lobe and down her neck.

Quickly, Sansa pulled at the laces at the top of her gown as best she could and then Jon stopped long enough enough to shove at her dress before cupping her breasts with his hands and lightly squeezing. “So perfect,” he murmured absently, perhaps not even meaning to speak aloud.

Jon started to drive into her and the cabin went quiet, other than the sound of skin slapping against skin. Sansa’s palms lay flat on the table in an effort to keep herself upright. He was relentless, his movements a steady assault of thrusts. She writhed beneath him as mewls fell from her lips.

She felt helpless, unable to do anything but gaze up at him through eyes half-lidded from desire. Jon’s skin was flushed and his eyes feverish. Sansa could see the dampness along his brow. It was ecstasy.

He leaned into her, pressing their lips together. “I love you,” he said, before kissing her once more, slower and more gentle than before.

Sansa felt as if she could weep from it all. She closed her eyes and saw only white as waves of pleasure fell over her. Above her, Jon roared before slamming into her one last desperate time and stilling.

Neither of them spoke, both panting from the efforts of their love making. Sansa felt sated and gratified.

“Did I hurt you, my love?” He kissed the corner of her lips and her cheek.

Sansa opened her eyes, they felt heavy. She cupped his cheek, tracing the top of his lip with one finger. “No. Did you mean what you said?”

“Every damned word.” Jon combed his fingers through her hair. “I’m a rather simple man, Sansa. I speak plainly.” Her mouth fell open, she couldn’t quite believe it. Jon chuckled, amused. “Come on, let’s go back to bed. We’re not done yet.”

“But what about your crew?”

“My crew can go bugger themselves,” he said dismissively. “We’re busy.”

*****

Three days later, she stood on the deck of _The Red Lion._ Sansa cold almost swear it was rolling violently beneath her, struggling to stay upright in a fierce winter storm. The cloudless blue sky above her gave the lie to her fear though. Sansa wore one of her least favorite gowns, a plain one made with light blue wool. It was the sort of gown the daughter of a merchant of middling success would own. She wore nothing to imply great wealth or the access to it. She prayed it was the right decision.

Jon’s ship was at anchor close by with him hidden away below decks, where he had been the last two days. Jon did not take to it well, even as he recognized the need. They could not risk the Lannisters seeing him, and Jon, with his dark hair and black clothing, was unmistakable. It seemed with every hour that passed, his temper grew, until he was prowling about, a wild animal in search of prey. He’d been voracious the night before, her thighs were still weak from it.

Next to her stood Sandor Clegane, one hand on his sword, his expression seemingly bored. Across from her stood a woman and a man she guessed was a few years younger than Jon. Their hair was golden and their eyes, green and cat-like. They made Sansa feel as if she was a toy they would soon be playing with, tossing her between them with their golden paws. She despised them both.

Sansa told herself to be brave, as brave as Robb and Jon. She raised her chin before cooling announcing, “I am Sansa Stark and I’ve come for my brother.”

The woman tilted her head, seeming only mildly curious. “Have you now?”

“Dog! I’ll have your head! Seize him! I want his head!” Spittle fell from Joffrey’s lips. Sansa wanted to recoil in horror but restrained herself.

Sandor Clegane merely seemed bored. “Gnats,” he said dismissively.

“No blood will be spilled...today, I give you my word. Hand over your sword, Clegane, and we will talk.”

The Hound did so but Sansa could feel the anger growing inside of him.

They were moved to the captain’s quarters below and served wine. Sansa took only a small sip, not wanting to feel its influence. She felt uneasy. “Where is my brother?”

Cersei Lannister smiled, it was a poisonous smile. “We’d hoped for someone else, but you’ll do well enough, I should think.”

*****

Jon had woken with a strange sense of foreboding that morning and it had yet to leave him. He paced about his ship, moving from the officer’s quarters to the galley and empty brig and back again. He wanted to jump over the _The Red Lion’s_ railing to give Joffrey Lannister, the golden prick, a red smile. The two colors would work rather well together, he thought.

Davos came up behind him. “Jon, she’s gone below.”

His stomach twisted, he did not like that. “The crew?”

“Nothing suspicious.”

The sense of foreboding grew. “Nothing? No soldiers or mass of armed sailors? Nothing resembling sell sails or sworn swords?”

“I had two men with field glasses. They saw nothing but a few daggers.”

Jon scratched at his beard. Something was very wrong. “Robb Stark isn’t the type to sit in the brig with only…” Stark wasn’t the type to be caught so easily either. “I want reports from the lookouts. I need to find Sam.”

Jon raced to the nearby ladder in search of his navigator. “Sam, if you wanted to hide for a few days, where would you go?”

“Back to Horn Hill. No one would look for me there. Why?”

He sighed, exasperated. “Not you specifically. Stark, an entire fucking ship. Where would you go?”

“Oh. We’ll, let me think. It really depends upon a number of factors. How long and who I’m hiding from, where I eventually want to be.”

“Jon.”

“Wait, Davos.” He waved the old man away. “Where, Sam?”

“It depends. Fair Isle or maybe up towards The Crag. Maybe Gulltown or Braavos if I wanted some distance.”

He dismissed all of those.

Davos repeated his name, much more vehemently this time.

“What is it?”

“Sails spied in the distance, port side, coming towards us."

Jon cackled. “Never mind Sam, my question has been answered.” Now, he only needed to figure out how to tell his soon to be good brother that he’d just placed Sansa in the lion’s den. “Let’s go meet it.” Joffrey Lannister would be getting his red smile after all. Or so he hoped, that sense of foreboding was still with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, the next chapter will feature some darkish Jon and violence, nothing more than we have seen before.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A battle or two and a pair of reunions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final warning. There is fighting and violence in this chapter, nothing darker than you have seen before.

Dread filled her. Sansa looked about the captain’s quarters, making note of the sculpture and set of armor that stood in a corner of the room. Cersei’s jewelry was the same, she thought. It was all gilded, it was false. She needed to remember that.

“We’d hoped for someone else, but you’ll do well enough, I should think.”

She’d been tricked. Sansa took another small sip of her wine, needing the opportunity to decide on some response. All she could think to do was delay. And wait. She smiled for them, summoning the sweetest smile she could. “I am prepared to offer a ransom if that’s what you require.”

Joffrey Lannister shot to his feet. “I want his head, not a ransom.” He turned towards his mother, face twisted into a cruel snarl. “You said I could have it. You said he would come.” He spoke through thick, ugly worm lips with a voice that sounded rabid to her.

“So I did.” Cersei Lannister sat in a chair overly large for the cabin, decorated with lion’s heads and lion’s paws. She noticed gold and garnets in the woman’s hair along with a matching necklace. Her gown was made with cloth of gold too. She didn’t respond to Sansa’s offer, she didn’t need too.

Sansa felt the fear she’d felt in that alley, the cold knife against her throat and the threatened promises. Images of blood and innards laying on the wretched alley ground flashed in her mind. She started to blink rapidly, hoping to flush the tears away before deciding not to. Let them come, she thought. Tears were good. “Please. Please don’t hurt him,” she begged. “I know where he is. I can find him for you.”

The older woman stilled, her feline eyes seemed to bore into Sansa. “Find who?”

“Jon Snow. I can give you him, if you want.” Silently, Sansa begged his forgiveness. Jon’s idea or not, it felt like a betrayal. “I know where he is.”

“Where is he?”

“Mother, I don’t want-”

Cersei Lannister raised a finger. “Your...uncle does. Speak child and I think we can come to an agreement.”

“I took his ship and crew from him. We left him behind at Winterfell.” They didn’t believe her, she could see it. “I promised his second, Davos, that he could take over as Captain. I told his crew where Jon Snow kept his earnings.” Every word she spoke was a lie and weak ones at that. Some small piece of knowledge of Jon and his men and her story would fall apart.

“The girl told you true,” Sandor Clegane. He sounded bored, as if their discussion held no interest for him. His burned cheek twitched. “I saw him drunk off his arse in a wine sink the night before we set sail.”

The cabin door opened. A heavy man, frog-faced and jowled appeared. He was clad in armor but there was something to him that made Sansa believe it spoke to ego rather than any skill.

“Boros Blount. Don’t fear that one,” Sandor whispered. He spoke so quietly she could barely hear him. It reassured her somehow.

“The other ship left, heading east,” Blount told Cersei Lannister.

“Well, child. It appears they have left you behind.” Sansa didn’t believe that. “I look forward to more of your company, as an honored guest, of course.” She left the room.

Joffrey’s green eyes blazed. “I’m going to kill your brother myself. After that, I’ll kill the bastard and give his head to my uncle. My mother won’t be able to stop me.” He pulled his sword from its scabbard. Sansa noted the rubies that decorated its pommel. Joffrey Lannister did not hold it with the confidence or ease she’d witnessed with either her brother or Jon.

“I’m sure you are quite skilled with your sword, my lord,” she said kindly.

He squinted at her but did not respond. “You stay here with the dog,” he ordered before promptly leaving the room.

“They locked us in.” He went towards the cabin door, testing it, before returning to her.

“What do we do?”

“I don’t have a sword, little bird. We’re trapped here, with ocean all around. For now, we wait like a pair of kicked dogs.”

Trapped or not, she refused to think of herself as a kicked dog. Jon was coming, she knew he was. Sansa only needed to wait.

*******

Jon stood at the bow of the deck, legs spread wide, a familiar hum rippling through his body. He’d been in enough battles to know what it meant. Stark was coming straight towards him.

“Jon.”

“Sam.”

“Shouldn’t we be going to rescue her?” His friend stood next to him, ill at ease. “Sansa’s probably frightened, Jon. You can ask her brother’s permission afterwards.”

He didn’t have any intention of asking permission. It was Sansa’s decision to make, no one else’s. “I am rescuing her, Sam, believe me.” His navigator was highly skilled in many ways but he had no instinct for battle. “Look at him cutting through the water, I’d guess twelve or thirteen knots. Why?”

“I get it. I know what running away looks like.” Sam told him sadly.

“Aye. What’s he running from? Now think on this, how do I tell Robb Stark that I took his little sister to my bed, possibly getting her with child, before sending her off to the Lannisters?” Jon did not have an answer to that question.

His friend started to tell him but Jon didn’t hear a word of it. His stomach flipped. “DAVOS!”

In the distance, three sets of white sails appeared on the horizon. Jon’s question was answered. He left Sam alone. Any counsel would need to wait.

“Davos, get every field glass we have watching those ships. I want to know who we’re going to be fighting.” He turned to Grenn. “I want you and four men on the bow chaser. Be ready to fire on my orders.”

“Me?”

“Him?” asked Pyp.

“You. Now go,” he barked out. Jon glanced up to make sure, hoping to be wrong for once. He was not, his standard appeared through the rigging, flying proud in the sea winds. Any hope of passing as an innocent merchant ship was gone.

He found Edd on the main deck, already organizing the men. “Six gun crews ready to go, be ready, port or starboard. We aren’t looking for prizes today, Edd, it’s killing we’re doing. You understand?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Go.”

Time slowed as Jon stood alone on the decking. _The White Wolf_ passed, less than a cable’s distance between the two ships. He saw Robb Stark, dressed in gray and white, staring back at him. Probably grateful for his surprise appearance, Jon decided.

He grinned his brightest, friendliest grin and held up his hand to wave. Stark’s returning gesture was rather less friendly. “Go bugger yourself, you dull-witted aurochs,” he screamed into the wind, still waving. Stark’s ship passed by, showing no sign of slowing speed. “Fucking hell,” he grumbled to himself before returning to his duty.

Next was Satin. “Watch Stark, I want to know exactly when that craven prick decides to get his arse back here.”

The foreboding he’d woken too was gone, replaced with the excitement of war and joy of killing. Jon would be tasting blood on his lips soon and feeling its warm spray across his chest and face. For now though, he had to wait.

“Ships ahead identified.”

Jon noticed the tightness in Davos’ jaw and wariness settled over him. “Jaime Lannister and who else?”

“Stafford Lannister, flying his familiar white ox.” Jon sighed with relief. The man was a fool, indecisive and slow to act. “And who else?”

“Kevan Lannister.”

“Fucking hell.” Another uncle, this one competent. Three ships, his love to rescue, and Stark on the run.

“Stafford will be on us first. The other two following right behind.”

“Pyp, orders to Grenn. I want him firing as soon as we are in range. Same to Edd.” He grabbed the man, making sure he understood. “Fire arrows and grape shot only. I want it burning.”

“That leaves us with the other two,” said Davos.

Jon knew what he’d do. “Stafford will go down easily. The presence of family will make him overly confident. The other two, we’ll end up between them, caught in the middle.” Guns firing at them, port and starboard. He could maneuver to get close to one but not the other. “Get boats and hooks ready. We should be able to get aboard one of them.” While the other finishes us off. He scratched at his beard, frustrated.

“Jon, the fourth Lannister ship is coming towards us. The one with Sansa on it,” said Sam.

“Fucking hell, that’s four. Where is Stark?” He waited, listening to the ship’s silence as white sails grew closer. Jon tapped a finger against his thigh, counting the passing time….one...two...three…..

_BOOM!_

_BOOM!_

Two hits. “Portside! Turn!” He felt the sharp movements beneath him as Davos guided the wheel. “Pyp, I want Grenn below with Edd. Every canon going. Run!” The crew member took off with his errand.

_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_

He shivered with excitement, breathing in the air, now thick with the scent of salt and gunpowder. Three more shots and it was done. Stafford’s ship was on fire. Flames licked up the main mast and black smoke came from the stern. A pair of men, their bodies lit up, stumbled over the side and into the gray water below.

“Two more to go,” he said to no one in particular. “Seven hells, Stark. Where are you?”

Kevan Lannister, with his red lion head flying, was on them, approaching their starboard side. As expected, this lion was ready for the fight. His guns were ready.

_BOOM!_

Jon snickered.

“He missed, captain.” Pyp jumped and shook his fist with glee.

“He’s turning, Pyp. We aren’t done yet.” Kevan Lannister had a touch of impatience but he wouldn’t repeat the mistake.

_BOOM! BOOM!_

Edd and Grenn beat him to it. Fire arrow and grape shot both. Lannister fired back and Jon laughed. “A chain ball. Jaime Lannister wants the honor of killing me himself.” That would help him some. Not enough. Fire or not, he’d still be done soon.

A third vessel appeared, the golden lion on the main topsail, was his other side, staying out of firing range. Captain One Paw was hoping his uncle would weaken him. The strategy would work eventually. Jon would do the same though the admittance pained him.

_BOOM! BOOM!_

His ship was taking damage now, the mizzen was destroyed. Thick white canvas fell to the deck, shredded and torn. More shots fired, back and forth. Each seeming to grow louder than the one before. A splintered piece of wood fell on him, scratching his cheek. Jon didn’t know where it came from.

“Captain, it’s Stark. He’s coming around,” reported Satin.

Jon took his eyes off the activity, looking towards the bow of the ship. Robb Stark would be on them in less than a minute, between him and Jaime Lannister. “Pyp, tell Edd I want every starboard gun. I want the air to stink of gunpowder and burning flesh.”

He left his station, Kevan Lannister would be done in another minute. It made little difference, the Lion’s plan was working. His ship had taken on heavy damage. Canons exploded, one on top of another, with a loud roar. _The Red Lion_ sat in the water, with Sansa aboard, waiting out the results of the battle. He needed to get to her brother.

“Satin, tell Davos to get as close as he can to Stark. After that…..”

“Captain?”

Jon breathed deep, telling himself there would be time to mourn later. “After that, it’s time to abandon ship. Let’s hope Stark is willing to take us on.”

He sent Sam to repeat the orders and made his way to Davos. “Hooks out. We’ll need to build a bridge.”

“Jon?”

He opened his eyes. “I’ll go first and explain. Get the men off here. This ship is done.” Jon felt empty. The mizzen was destroyed and most of the sails were ripped to shreds. The foremast was almost torn apart. He could save his ship or he could save Sansa, Jon could not do both.

It was quiet now, the first part of the fighting was done. The two remaining Lannister ships were retreating.

Robb Stark was waiting for him, he should have expected it. “Permission to come aboard.”

He snorted. “Get your men and come on. We aren’t done yet.”

Jon hopped over the railing, with his men following. All of them were armed, carrying whatever ammunition could be carried. “Thank you.”

“I’ve got two questions for you. Why are you here and where is my sister?”

This would be a difficult conversation. “Your sister is close and we’re here rescuing you.”

“I didn’t need rescuing.”

Jon shook his head, not believing it. “I saw you running away. What would you call that?”

“A merry chase on a sunshine-filled afternoon. Where is my sister?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer, it was a complicated question. “She’s busy.” Jon grimaced, preparing himself for the coming assault. “Sansa is rescuing you over there.” He gesticulated vaguely in the direction of the _Red Lion._

“You’re a dead man.” _Thwack!!_

Jon wiped the blood from his nose. “Well, I deserved that. Really though, I was left with no choice after she mutinied.” He held his hands up to protect himself from another hit. “You’re sister is a rather persuasive women. She thought we were saving your life. Sansa loves you.”

That worked, Robb Stark lowered his fist. “We aren’t done yet,” he threatened.

“You can pummel me later. For now, we need to get your sister.” Jon decided to stay silent about the rest of it. They could discuss Sansa in his bed and their impending nuptials after she was safely by his side. “We can’t destroy that vessel either, I’m taking it for my own. After we rid it of the cat infestation first, of course.” The Lannisters owed him a new ship, it would do.

Robb frowned sharply. “We aren’t destroying anything. Our only ammunition is what your men salvaged. Why did you think I was running?”

I took you for a craven arse, but Jon could not say that. “Poor sailing skills?” he offered instead.

“Yet here I am, with a ship that doesn’t have a rip in its hull.” Robb Stark raised his brow, indicating past Jon’s shoulder.

He didn’t want to look but made himself turn. Jon gripped the railing and the emptiness returned. It’d been the only home he’d known since the day Stannis found him in Flea Bottom. The tunic she was making for him was on it too. The surrounding water was littered with bodies, all clad in Lannister crimson. The dying had not been easy, he could say that much at least. Jon said a final goodbye. “Time to board and fight then.” And kill. He stirred up the cold anger in him, wanting to revel in it.

“Let’s hope your men have some skill with those pieces of metal hanging off their sword belts. It’ll be hooks and boats getting my sister back. What were you thinking, sending her off like that?”

Jon pulled at his hair, not quite sure how to explain. “Sansa wants the freedom to make her own choices. I let her.”

Stark’s lips twisted into a snarl. “And making her a Lannister prisoner is granting her freedom how exactly? If anything happens to her, your head will be decorating my prow.”

“If anything happens to her, I’ll offer it up glady,” he said honestly.

Robb did not respond, leaving him alone to issue commands to his crew. It didn’t matter what the man claimed; with no gun powder, he’d needed Jon’s assistance. Now, Jaime Lannister was torn, resources split between protecting his sister and ferrying away the few survivors to safety. His task would be growing even more difficult, Robb Stark was taking them right to _The Red Lion._

It was time. The little ammunition left to them, six pounders mostly, went flying, their only purpose to delay a responding attack. Jon hoped it was enough. He heard Stark bark an order to come about. Three small boats set out with men ready to climb.

Jon set Edd, Grenn, and Davos to split into three teams, bow, mid, and stern. “Remember, it’s killing we’re doing. I’m not looking for prisoners.”

Hooks were thrown and the familiar quiet came over him, broken only by the crew’s grunts as they pulled at the cables. Jon tapped his thigh, beginning his count... _one...two...three…_

The quiet left him, replaced by the loud roars of his men as battle excitement fell over them.They jumped the railing in pairs, experience making their movements quick and sure. He followed, wanting to find Sansa.

The first sailor appeared, dressed in crimson and white. His eyes were sunken and pale-eyed, making Jon think of a corpse. He would be soon enough. “Where’s Sansa?”

“Who?”

“Wrong answer,” he growled. Jon shifted, slicing him across the chest with his sword before swinging for a final blow to the belly.

Two steps forward and he came across another one, heavy and thick jowled. “Where’s Sansa?”

“The girl? We got her.” The dead man grinned.

Jon misliked that. He swung, left and right, before sliding the blade across the heart. The dead man coughed up blood and fell to the deck. Jon left him to his dying.

He took a third with a slash across his throat and a spray of blood landed on him. Jon licked it from his lips and continued the search. A fourth jumped down from a bit of rigging, young with sandy blond hair, surprised at Jon’s presence. The boy immediately pissed his pants with fear, recognizing who he faced.

Jon held his arms wide. “Tell me where Sansa Stark is and I’ll let you go. I give you my word.” Grenn approached behind the lad. Jon nodded at him to stay still.

“The cabin. I heard Lord Joffrey say he would make her watch.”

He didn’t move, making sure his sword pointed at the decking below. “I gave you my word. You may go.” The lad moved to find Grenn waiting for him. He walked over the body, silently telling himself that he’d kept his word.

Jon stepped onto the deck of the _Red Lion,_ only to be confronted with swarms of men fighting with daggers and fists. Jaime Lannister had joined the battle then. He pulled out one of the long knives he kept in his boot and joined the dance. Jon was not done killing yet.

“My sister is in the captain’s quarters. Blount is guarding it.”

Jon sliced a crimson clothed man across the neck, giving him a matching smile. “Where are the rest of them?” It was Cersei and her son that mattered. The Lannisters could not match the numbers of his and Robb Stark’s crews, the fighting would be over in a few more minutes.

“Probably with her. It’s Jaime we need to take out next.”

Jon had yet to spy the golden haired captain. “I took the first hand. I’ll let you take the second.”

Robb cackled. “It’s not his hand I want, Snow.” He stepped away, sighting his next target. “Find my sister or your entrails will be strung across my bow. Best get moving.”

Stark jumped over a pair of bodies, pursuing a figure. It was Jaime Lannister, he realized. Jon waited until he could not be heard before shouting out, “Your sister shares my bed and I hope she’s with child,” to the retreating form. He felt a certain grim satisfaction from the confession.

He stepped back into the fray and stabbed a passing figure in the gut. Jon looked about, trying to determine where to go next when he heard a familiar woman’s voice scream out his name. Jon grabbed his next target, putting a knife to his throat.

*****

Sansa did not know how long they’d been locked up. It could have been minutes or even days. It was as if time did not exist. She paced for awhile, four steps and then turn, four more steps and turn, before returning to her chair.

“Wait, girl. There’s nothing for us to do right now.” For a man who counseled patience, his expression seemed full of rage.

Awhile later, she felt a sharp tilt and lull. “We’re moving,” she said dumbly.

“You got that, did you?”

Soon after, Sansa heard canons, explosions so loud it pained her ears, one after the other. They hammered at her, so loud she wanted to cry from it all. She didn’t know where they came from, only hoped Jon was fighting back. Then quiet and Sansa heard nothing at all. “Did he win?” She did not get an answer.

Another explosion, much closer than before. Sansa stared upwards at the ceiling, half expecting a ball to come through it. Another explosion and another and another. “He’s coming. I knew he would. He’ll kill them all.”

Men screamed, yells of anger and fear. Still, no one came for her and the door stayed locked. Finally, Sandor Clegane stood, towering over her with his great height.

“Stand away from the door. You run when I say so.” He’d heard what she did not, the door opened mere seconds later. “Blount.” The Hound moved, faster than a man that size had any right too, and began to choke him. Sansa stared mutely. “Run. Go,” he roared. “Your boy is waiting for you.”

Sansa ran blindly, towards what she did not know. A ladder appeared and she threw herself at it, climbing up and up, glimpsing the sunlight that awaited her.

There he was. Sansa thought she glimpsed a flash of metal before he stopped moving. She screamed his name, waving, but managed only a single step before feeling a knife at her throat.

“Did you think to leave without a goodbye?” It was Cersei Lannister.  “A trade. Your brother for my brother.”

“I don’t have him.”

“You stupid girl. It isn’t you that will be making the trade.”

The cold edge of the blade pressed against her throat. Sansa winced and tried to pull away.

“You’re done. Let her go.” It was Jon, covered in soot and blood. There was a gash across one cheek and a tear in his sleeve. He’d taken a hostage of his own.

“Release my son or your slut dies.”

Jon laughed cruelly. “Fucking Lannisters. You never learn.”

Suddenly, the knife was gone and Cersei Lannister lay in an unconscious puddle at her feet. Sandor Clegane stood over them both, sword in hand.

“I’m not so forgiving a man.” Jon slashed Joffrey Lannister’s neck and released him. The body fell to the ground and did not move.

Sansa stared, she did not know what to feel. Shivers wrecked her body as she took in the scene before her. Men lay on the deck, so many of them, unmoving. Sansa saw Grenn and Pyp in the distance and some of her brother’s crew as well.

“Are you alright?” It was Jon, standing over her. “Are you hurt?” She felt his palm against her cheek, lightly stroking.

“They didn’t hurt me.” She blinked, making herself look away from all the death. Sansa wanted to see only Jon. “I think you kept them busy. Can we go now?”

“Soon, love. I need you to wait a while longer.” Jon pulled her against him and kissed her.

Sansa wrapped her arms around his waist, afraid to let go. “They don’t have my brother.”

Jon hummed a laugh. “I know,” he said before stroking the hair by her temples.

“Why did you stop kissing me?”

He eyed her lips. “I don’t know.” Jon cupped her cheeks, tilting her head the barest amount. “I love you,” he whispered and then his lips crashed into hers.

She melted against him, wanting to lose herself in the comfort of his embrace and the warmth of his body. Sansa never wanted it to end.

“Snow, why are you kissing my sister?” asked a familiar voice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the action sequences weren't horriible
> 
> It's funny. This chapter is not my best piece of writing ever. Still, it has turned out to be the single hardest chapter I've written to date. I struggled to write this for several days and then spent a few more editing and rereading. So, maybe not great, but I'm still proud of it.
> 
> A huge shout out to Vivi for all her help with writing this. If not for her, I'd still be in the middle of my freak out. She was hounded with constant questions and snippets to review. Thank you for putting up with me!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resolution, wrap up, and HEA.

“Snow, why are you kissing my sister?” It was Robb.

Sansa sighed and started to break their kiss but his grip tightened. “He’ll wait,” Jon murmured, their lips rubbing together as he spoke.

She didn’t want it to end either but she also wanted to greet her brother and step back onto Jon’s ship. She giggled against him before saying, “He’ll-”

Sansa never finished. Jon was laying on the wooden deck at her feet, Robb standing over him with his right hand pulled into a fist. “I’ll use simple words for you, you mule-headed arse. Stay away from my sister.”

Jon slowly drew himself up, holding his jaw. “That’s twice today, Stark. Be warned, attempt it again and I will fight back.”

She couldn’t believe it, the pair of them seemed to think they could have a wrestling match on the deck of the Lannister ship. “The two of you will stop now,” she ordered.

They paid her no mind. Robb attempted a third strike but Jon was prepared this time. He ducked before slamming into her brother. Sansa shrieked; they ignored that too. Frustration filled her, and anger. If they wished to beat the other bloody, she was tempted to let them do so. Their pummels went on, broken by the occasional grunt and snarl.

Sansa screamed and then clutched her jaw before pretending to whimper. It worked. The two men ceased their childish fight to stare at her, jaws hanging open. “It hurts so much,” she whined, mayhaps wanting to punish them some.

“Gods, Sansa. I’m so sorry,” said Robb contritely.

“Sansa, love. I’m so sorry. We didn’t mean to hit you.” Jon took a step towards her before stopping himself, realizing another display in front of her brother would be unwise.

“You fools,” she snapped. “Neither of you touched me. We need to talk, not pummel the other.” She glanced around, noticing the crowd of sailors watching the mummer’s show they’d performed. “I want off this ship.”

“No, we need to stay here,” Jon said emphatically. “Mine’s underwater and if we step aboard your brother’s, I may not get you back.”

“What happened? Where is it?” Sansa was certain she misheard.

“I told you. Giving the fish a new home.”

Jon never spoke the exact words but she knew it was home for him, the only place he wanted to be. Her stubbornness meant his loss. She forced herself not to think about that, not yet. “Then we will talk in the captain’s quarters. Can you ask your men to see to the prisoners first?”

Her brother stared at her, puzzled. “What prisoners?”

“Seizing prisoners was not our purpose.”

Sansa did not want to ponder that either. “Follow me.” She raised her head, leading them with as much dignity as she could muster to the Lannister room once again. Her body trembled. She didn't quite know why.

Finally alone with only the two of them, she threw herself into her brother’s arms. “I thought you were a prisoner.”

Robb pulled her tight, picking her up until her feet dangled off the floor. “Not by them. Are you hurt?”

“No, I lied about the two of you. I believe it distracted Cersei Lannister enough to leave me alone.”

“Good, then I’ll repeat my earlier question and ask another one.” Robb set her down to focus on Jon. “Did you put her in your bed?”

Jon’s head tilted slightly as his jaw tightened. “I kissed your sister because she asked me too.” He raised his arms up defensively before adding on, ”As to the second question, not on the first day.”

Her brother glowered at Jon. “I am going to kill you. Very slowly.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

“Shut up, both of you. You’re supposed to be friends. Robb, he came to save you. Both of us did.” Neither of them would meet her eyes, choosing to make a silent study of the floor instead. Guilt, she realized. “You’re not friends,” she said quietly.

“I led you to think so, figuring you would prefer it to the truth.”

“What’s the truth?” Sansa prayed her suspicions were wrong.

“Your brother was going to pay me a share of whatever he stole from the Lannisters. I’d decided to refuse it though after you and I….”

The gods had chosen not to listen to her. “I see.” Sansa turned away, looking desperately for some distraction, finding a small pitcher of water and flagon of wine on the table. Drunkenness was tempting. She poured some of the wine and took a sip, enjoying the sweet Arbor Red. She felt someone pulling at the stray tendrils of her hair. “There is dried blood covering both of you.”

Jon ignored that which she expected. “Sansa, love, nothing has changed. I meant every word said to you. I plan to marry you as soon as we find ourselves a septon.”

Sansa wanted to ask how much he would earn for watching over her but did not get the chance.

“Buggering hell,” Robb bellowed. “Do you truly believe I’d let you marry my sister? You, a black-garbed bastard who lives for nothing but thieving and killing?”

Jon’s eyes were on her as he told Robb,  “It’s Sansa’s choice, not yours. And, yes, I fully intend to take her for a bride, whether you will it or no.”

It was her choice. Sansa knew what she wanted and it was not more of their bickering. “Make peace. Both of you. Come back to me when you’ve done so.” She took another sip of her wine. They both shrieked her name with surprise. “Best be quick. I took your crew once and I’ll do it again.”

Robb appeared to question her determination but Jon did not. “Peace, is it? I suppose war with your goodbrother isn’t particularly wise. Let’s go, Stark.”

“Don’t ever call me that again.” Still, he followed Jon out of the cabin, leaving her alone.

Sansa looked about, wondering what sort of contents the room hid. She decided to do some exploring.

****

The two of them wound up in a smaller cabin, appropriate for a senior officer or guest. Jon wasn’t certain how to broach his impending nuptials. His usual method of negotiation typically consisted of threats followed by steaming innards. He’d found a rather high degree of success with this approach but doubted Sansa would take kindly to being presented with her brother’s guts.

“You aren’t marrying her, Snow.”

“It’s not your decision.” Jon was tempted to hurl insults but held his tongue. Instead, he sat down on the cabin’s narrow bed. “You look like shit. There’s water and a washcloth on that chest,” he said, inclining his head towards it.

“So do you.” Stark went to wash the dried blood off his face and scalp. “I’ll be taking my sister shortly and leaving. I’ll let you say your goodbyes.”

It’s what he expected. Jon wondered what counsel Sansa would offer. She had a talent for finding a person’s vulnerabilities, she’d done it with his crew and him several times over. “Would you break your sister’s heart so easily?”

Robb stilled as his features tightened with hurt. “She doesn’t love you,” he insisted, although Jon suspected he was trying to convince the both of them.

“Is it so easy to wager your sister’s future happiness on that? Her every thought was for you, Robb. I would have expected the same of you.”

“I’m listening,” he said roughly, almost as if the words were forced. “So tell me what happened. All of it.”

Jon deliberated. Stark did not need to know all of it, only enough. “My affectations for Sansa are genuine, please believe me. It wasn’t my plan for our relationship to become intimate either.” He told what could be told, there was some that he’d never share with another. “It was the day we decided to come to your aid. I loved her so I took a knee and asked Sansa to marry me.” Jon had been between her knees, with his breeches hanging down on his thighs but that was a small difference.

“If I ask her for the story, will I hear the same?”

“Yes.” Robb Stark wouldn’t ask, that lie was safely uttered. He sat in the cabin’s lone wooden chair. It was small, as if designed for a child. Jon smirked at him sitting awkwardly in it but said nothing. “What else do you want to know?”

“What do you expect to happen after?”

Jon pursed his lips, confused. Robb was leading him somewhere. “For us to be together.”

“That’s not enough, not nearly enough.” Jon opened his mouth to argue but Robb spoke over him, “I listened. It’s your turn. Did Sansa tell you of her childhood?”

Jon tried to remember. “She spoke of you.”

“Did she ever tell you our aunt considered her a burden? Or the times she cried and begged me to take her with?”

He went cold. “No.”

Robb moved about in his chair, spreading his legs wide in an effort to get comfortable. He wasn’t, Jon could easily see his tightly coiled muscles. “That’s what I expected. I’ve always been the one to provide and keep her safe, at least until now. Now along you come, with your romantic declarations and marriage proposal. What is your plan? Sansa will live on board your ship and bear your children in the middle of an ocean? I suppose your cook can help with the delivery. Or you can stow her in a mance somewhere. She’ll wait patiently for you to return to her for a fortnight, or perhaps a moon’s turn. Then you’ll go off again, leaving her alone once more. Eventually, time will pass and you won’t come back at all because you’ll be dead. Sansa will be alone, wondering where her beloved husband went.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Jon meant to see to it she didn’t leave his side. Still, he had some inkling of the reason for Robb’s lie to his sister. Time spent with a friend was very different from payment to a sometime rival and partner.

“I’m not done yet. We have no parents, no kin we can turn too, no friends to rely on. Our Aunt Lysa has let her feelings be known. Sansa begged me not to leave her behind. So, along comes Jon Snow, with his promises of family and love, who will ultimately leave her as alone as she once was. Now tell me, Black Bastard, the man who has lived for nothing but piracy and thieving as long as I’ve known him, is that really the fate you’d visit on the woman you love?”

Jon didn’t know how to respond and the silence between them grew. Robb was allowing him to answer. Only, he did not have one to give.

“That’s what I thought. As I said, my sister and I will be taking our leave shortly.” He stood, clearly believing their conversation was done.

It wasn’t. Jon leapt from the bed, moving to block the door to prevent Robb’s leaving. “I’m not done yet either. You only know one part of me.”

“The part that matters.” He was wrong, it was the part that didn’t matter at all.

“I’ll leave it behind,” he said in a rush.

Robb huffed. “I don’t think you’re capable.”

“Ask Sansa. Ask her if she thinks I would.” Doubt. Stark was showing doubt. It was a start. “Go tell your men to make for Dragonstone and then ask your sister. I’ll meet you both shortly.”

Jon left him alone. Curiosity would push Stark to do as he asked if nothing else. He went off in search of Edd, feeling elated. The earlier cold had completely left him.

******

Sansa was disappointed. She found gowns made with cloth of gold but no wool, and no sewing notions either.

“What have you done?”

“Robb.” She looked around the cabin. “I wanted to see what could be found. Where is Jon?”

“I don’t know. We’re sailing to Dragonstone.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know that either.” Robb gazed about, clearly trying to find an available chair or other form of seating. He couldn’t. Shaking his head, Robb chose the floor with his back to a now empty chest.

“Did the two of you make peace?”

“Of a sorts. Can I ask you a question?”

She would prefer an answer to her own questions first. “Please.”

Robb patted the empty floor next to him. Sansa came to sit, crossing her legs. “If you were to ask him to leave everything behind, would he?”

“Yes.”

“That was quick.”

“It was a simple question. I don’t want to marry some minor lord in search of a dowry, Robb.”

“What do you want?”

Sansa leaned against him before closing her eyes. It was easier to build a picture that way. “A home with the ocean close by so I can hear it at night. You. Him. My family.”

“What else?”

She wrinkled her nose, confused. “That’s it. What else would there be?”

“Nothing.” Robb chuckled. “I understand you led his crew in a mutiny. Will you tell me the story? I beg you.”

“It wasn’t a mutiny, not truly.” Sansa still felt some lingering guilt over it. She should have trusted Jon. She would never make that mistake again. Still, she told her brother the tale, even how she convinced Sandor Clegane to join them.

“What happened in here?” Jon asked, staring about with mild horror.

“She wanted to see what could be found.”

Sansa didn’t care about the cabin, she had larger concerns. “Why are we going to Dragonstone?”

Jon shut the door and cast about for a place to sit. Finally, he shoved a pile of books off one of the chairs. “To be wed. It’s only a few days from here.”

Her heart thumped. “Truly?”

“Aye.”

“Where are we going after?”

Jon glanced at her brother and his expression changed to a grimace. “We stay there.”

She gaped at him. “You can’t. We can’t. I would never ask you.”

“I already did. It’s done,” he said solemnly.

Sansa squeezed her eyes shut tight, willing the tears that threatened her to go away. This was not right. Besides her, she felt Robb’s body draw up, tense. He kissed her cheek and stood. “You always surprise, Snow. I’ll leave the two of you alone. May I ask who leads your crew now?”

“Edd Tollett.” Robb left the room after that. They were alone but Sansa did not trust herself to speak quite yet. “We can stay in this cabin or you can return to your old one with your brother if you want.”

“I want to stay with you.” Robb would already have expressed any objection if he had one. “I don’t understand.” Or rather, she did and it frightened her too. “You may come to regret this.” Other thoughts came to her but she would not voice them. It made the fear not quite so real.

“I may come to regret you, is that it? Speak what you mean, Sansa. I lack your talent with words.” Jon rubbed his neck, smoothing the whiskers that grew there. “If there was any merit to your fears, it seems to me the decision would not have been so easily made. It’s taken me longer to deliberate between chicken and venison for a meal. Your brother and I, we made our peace, enough to satisfy I think. As we spoke, I saw what our future could be and I knew what I wanted. That is, if you’ll have me.”

“What will you do?”

He smiled reassuringly. “I thought to try my hand at fishing.” Sansa couldn't help herself, she snorted at his obvious attempt at a jape. It worked though, her mood was lightening. “Stannis taught me well. I’m not without means, Sansa. I have coin, more than you’d think. We’ll also be picking the bones of this ship dry, I expect to find more than a trinket or two of treasure. It appears you’ve already seen to this room.”

“Cersei Lannister has a fondness for gold and rubies.” Her jewelry alone would yield them a small fortune. “You won’t take up fishing. I can’t marry a man who stinks of fish.”

“So no fishing then. Does that mean you’ll have me?” Jon came to sit by her, in the spot previously occupied by her brother. He pulled her between his legs until she leaned against his chest. Sansa could feel his warmth and smell the lingering scent of gunpowder. He’d taken care to scrub his face and hands before returning to her but she’d need to give him a better washing later. “Will you?”

“Yes.” How could she not? Sansa tilted her head back where it lay on his chest. She gazed up at him, taking in his perfect red lips appearing through the dark whiskers of his beard.

“Thank the gods,” he said in a rush, making her wonder if Jon hid some worry she would refuse him in the end. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

She kissed him first.

******

Jon stepped onto the beach of Dragonstone. He did not wear boots. The sand felt warm against his skin; the air clung to him, thick and heavy, as it always was so far to the south. In the distance, he spied a woman in white, a small child in her arms. Her silk gown made the red in her hair even more vibrant. It blew about, the ocean breeze turning it into a wild mane.

She spied him and waved before sitting on the edges of a small clump of grass. Jon sprinted the short distance to his wife, almost diving to the empty space by her side. “I suspected I’d find you here.”

“Lyanna told me she wanted to go for a walk.” Sansa set their daughter down. The babe immediately drew herself onto her hands and knees to rock back and forth. She’d not quite mastered creeping yet.

“Aye, I expect she did.” Drool fell down his daughter’s chin as she stared at him with familiar blue eyes.

“Did you hear from Robb?”

“Just now. My goodbrother -”

“He’s not here.”

Stark hated being called that. Jon made sure to do so, often and loudly. “It does not make my affections any less real.” Sansa snorted but said nothing. “As I said, my goodbrother received a missive from Willas Tyrell.”

Their partnership was almost a happy accident. Shortly after the wedding, Sansa had commissioned a few singers to spread tales of how the pair of them brought down the Lannister family. Jon had heard them, mostly lies and exaggerations with a few grains of truth scattered in. It made no matter though, as Sansa said, the truth was ultimately what people believed it to be. Slowly, they were being asked to protect merchant vessels from the very sorts of men they’d once been.

“What did he say?”

“He wants to meet with us.” Robb would lead the efforts, Jon’s days as captain were done. In addition to Edd, Satin and Davos captained ships of their own now. They would be expanding again shortly too.

Sansa smiled with pride. “I’d like to go with. Lyanna is old enough for a short trip I think.”

Jon bumped her with his shoulder. “I hoped you would,” he said, before laying on his stomach, wanting to be at the same level as his daughter. “Both of you. Robb will be here within a sennight.”

“Did I ever share with you a conversation the two of us had long ago?” Not that he could recall. Sansa continued on though, not waiting for an answer. “He asked me what I wanted. I told him a home where we could hear the ocean at night and a family. Robb wanted to know if that was all, but for me, that was everything.”

Jon scooped Lyanna into his arms and kissed her crown of raven curls. “It’s my everything too. It’s my dream.” He leaned over to kiss the woman he loved with his daughter’s plump arms wrapped around his neck.

The salty breeze blew hot against him. The gentle roar of the ocean sounded in his ears. It wasn’t a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who've stayed with me until the end, a HUGE thank you! I've gone back and read the comments to this particular fic more times than I can count.
> 
> This story was written because I wanted to try my hand at a fun, adventurous swashbuckler. Hopefully I achieved that goal. :)


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